


Wake up Call

by AllTheSnakes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:34:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 64,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23826925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllTheSnakes/pseuds/AllTheSnakes
Summary: Crowley wakes up in a new reality, with his soul back, and some philosophical questions come up.
Relationships: Crowley/Bobby Singer
Comments: 19
Kudos: 54





	1. A new beginning

Crowley woke up and immediately flinched.

He didn’t feel any pain, but the room was very white and clear.

He looked down at himself.

He was in a bed with plain white sheets and…

Was he wearing a hospital gown?

He threw the sheets aside and got off the bed to explore the room, his senses in alert.

He quickly investigated the bed he had woken on, that occupied the center of the room, tried the one door, that was locked, and strode to the huge transparent glass on the wall opposite to the door.

The view was blocked by a luxurious green tree.

Not happy at all with the fact he couldn’t see anything outside the room, Crowley inspected the glass, looking for any fractures or amends.

He was taken aback by the sudden presence of a bird among the leaves: a pretty bird that came from nowhere and now was chirping a cute song while looking straight into his eyes.

All he could think was _‘What I am, now? Snow White?’_

All he could say was _‘Argh’_.

‘Hello’.

Crowley leaned his head, confused.

Had the bird just talked to him?

‘Hello’.

He turned, startled, once there was someone in the room who had entered without a clicking sound through a door that had been locked seconds ago.

And now he had a new element to add to the crazy (being with his ass bare in a hospital gown the least of his worries), for he knew that person.

‘Naomi’, he greeted.

She had that strange small smile that meant she was in control of whatever was going on, ‘How do you feel?’

Crowley rolled his eyes. He was never a creature of patience, and that was surely a situation for not to waste any time, ‘Care to explain what is happening?’

‘Of course. That is why I’m here’, she walked calmly until she was an inch from making him too uncomfortable (damned angels and their lack of idea about personal space), ‘You needed some time to rest and heal, after the ordeal you went through’.

‘Ordeal?’

‘Regenerating a soul is not a simple task. You did good’.

‘Pardon. What?’

‘You are ready for the new opportunity that was given to you’.

‘Now, wait a moment-’

‘Congratulations’, she raised a hand, pointed a finger at his forehead and stopped just before she touched it, ‘You’re welcome’.

Everything went dark.

xxx

‘Oh!’, a woman’s voice exclaimed the moment he opened his eyes again, ‘I’m so glad you’re back!’

Crowley looked around. He was standing on a sidewalk in a crowded street. People were passing by, chatting, laughing, minding their business. No one seemed to have noticed him appearing there.

He was wearing his usual well-tailored black suit with the casual touch of color – in this case, a royal blue tie he didn’t recognize.

‘Come on in!’, the woman called, and he followed her towards the closest building door.

xxx

The huge room had some desks and shelves and then more shelves filled with books.

‘What is this?’, Crowley frowned at the excited woman in front of him, who he was almost recognizing, ‘And please, darling, don’t say a library, because that I already got’.

‘Well, this is a library’, she informed him, not minding his harsh tone, ‘The one where we work’.

Her sedate tone helped him remember who she was and where he had seen her before: she was the vessel of the angel who accompanied Castiel when Crowley stole another angel’s grace to save him and help Sam with Demon Dean. 

‘I’m Hannah’, she said, as if reading his thoughts, then reached out for something from the front desk, ‘And this is for you’.

Crowley picked the ID she was handing him.

It said _‘James Crowley. Librarian’_.

He frowned, thinking who the Hell was James…

And remembering that was the name of the guy from whom he had got his favorite vessel.

‘I was told you may have some issues because of the ordeal’, Hannah sounded truly sympathetic, ‘You may not remember, but this place should be familiar to you’.

‘That’s too much of a general statement’, Crowley said, looking up at her.

‘I understand it is not comfortable not knowing certain things. However, it helps to let someone with your issues to find out things by their own’.

‘My issues?’

‘Yes’, she leaned a bit towards him and whispered, ‘The ordeal’.

Crowley made a contorted face. The fact people kept calling it _ordeal_ didn’t help with the zillion questions he had.

‘Let’s get philosophical, darling’, he said, deciding to take a more active role, ‘Answer me some basic existential questions, if you please: where and when am I?’

‘About the where: we are in a library in New York city, United States of America’, she grinned, ‘About the when: there’s no better answer than ‘now’’.

He made a new contorted face.

So, he was a James who lived in New York and worked in a library.

Was he thrown into a point in the life of the moderately well-succeeded literary agent whose meat suit he wore for so many years and had, ultimately, dying in?

But why was he called Crowley, too, then?

And what two angels were doing there?

And how was possible that he had a past he didn’t remember, in those circumstances?

‘You don’t need to worry’, Hannah put a soothing hand on his arm, ‘What matters is that you’re back’, she grinned again, pure joy in her face, ‘Come on. I’ll show you what we have been up to!’

xxx

Later that day, Crowley was lying in his bed, in his bedroom, in his apartment.

He had found out he lived alone in a flat. It was neat and stylish, had a pretty view of the city and all the comforts he could wish for – including books, a TV, a well-furnished kitchen and a complete wardrobe.

The intriguing thing was that the place was a perfect mix of James and Crowley: some of the books were the kind someone passionate about Literature would read; others were more general and focused on bizarre tales, like a curious demon had preferred; the TV had an astounding variety on programming, and the fridge, on food; the wardrobe had a lot of black suits and some tacky colored polo shirts.

He soon realized why he was a librarian: after his death, sacrificing himself for the Winchesters and regenerating his soul (if he believed what Naomi had said), he couldn’t be a demon; and he couldn’t be a Literary Agent, because no one needed one, anymore: all original writings were immediately published and entered a database where everybody could read them for free.

(In this world he was living in, money didn’t exist. People pursued what was dear to their hearts, and still everything worked perfectly.)

So, the middle ground seemed to be a nice job in a library, surrounded by knowledge and not having any power to use it.

Crowley gulped down.

Initially, he had thought this was some kind of reincarnation thing, but the rules were too different from the reality he had known.

It surely was not a time-travel thing, either, once he was not back to have a life as James, his meat suit, but a mix of what would have been the human’s interests and the demon’s.

Finally, he settled for the idea that this was Heaven and, for some reason, the ones in charge – not Naomi, who would never subject herself to such a role as coming just to discharge him – had decided what he deserved was a nice and vanilla life.

xxx

Oh, well, but he was Crowley.

And he was living in New York, the city that never sleeps.

Why would he?

xxx

Soon, Crowley found out the rules of that new world and started using them to his benefit.

The main rule was that everything always went right. So, he could work the whole day in the library, go home, have a change of clothes and spend the night fooling around – a shower and a nap were enough to get him well rested and energized, ready to start again.

Keeping the routine was easy. No matter when and how Crowley went to sleep, he always woke up in time to get up, eat something that tasted delicious and go to work properly groomed. No matter how big the pile of books he had to read and classify in the morning, he would entertain himself and finish everything in time for lunch break. The same went for the afternoon – he finished reading the last book and knew it was time to go home.

At night he went to museums, cafes, restaurants. He visited traditional touristic spots. He walked in dark alleys after midnight. He observed people interacting and had fun without them noticing him.

He confirmed again and again that there were no problems at all, in that reality – no crimes, no fights, no unfulfilled needs.

It was disturbing; however, it was the closest to total freedom he had ever been, and after an existence of so many tribulations, he decided he deserved that.

xxx

Crowley stopped on the sidewalk, adjusted his tie and looked around the street.

One more night of fun.

The street had plenty of nightclubs, and he was delighting in the diversity of offers. It was the first time he went there (not really a fan of dancing), and he just had to choose where to start exploring.

However, when he stopped between two places and couldn’t decide where to go, he realized whatever was going on, was new.

There was a very cozy place in his side of the street, that served nicely decorated cocktails and had a dance floor distant enough from the tables to permit people to ignore it if they so wished.

In the other side of the street, there was a club with electronic music playing and some engaging-looking people going in.

A part of him wanted the simplicity and amenity of drinking and observing yuppies; the other craved for the high energy of drag queens.

Shrugging at the unnecessary drama, he crossed the street.

xxx

Crowley entered the club and was taken by excitement: there were groups laughing, people by themselves, all kinds of human bodies and styles of dressing.

He congratulated himself by the choice. He loved the variety.

That night he could go _full-Crowley_ , whatever that meant in the present context.

He approached the bar to order something to drink – he still enjoyed it, even if no quantity of alcohol could make him drank, in that reality –, but saw some people ascending a staircase and decided to follow them.

xxx

There was a corridor with a lot of doors in the second floor and, being behind the line of people, he saw the big group entering one of the doors.

Some of them were already opening their clothes and groping others while entering.

He had taken part in a lot of orgies, but that carefree attitude that started before the doors were closed was definitively new.

Crowley passed by another door and found out that, well, people didn’t care about closing any doors, here, before getting into action.

So, he entered the room with the people he had been following and took off his jacket, watching the touching and kissing and-

_Oh._

_No time to waste._

He really loved that.

Crowley put the jacket in a hook and started taking off his tie, watching what was going on, open to find out what would be catching his fancy first.

In a corner of the room he saw a very tall and bulky guy and a petit redhead. The man was over the woman, covering her whole body with his.

That threw him back to a memory of possessing a whole family with Lilith, and he froze.

She would collect demons fresh from the rack, carefully selected according to their previous histories. She had a preference for souls who went to Hell through Crossroads deals, because they tended to have more troubled souls even before the torture; and she had a personal taste for the ones with horrible family issues and cases of abuse. Those ended up as the dumbest or the most vicious demons, with nothing in between, and Lilith liked her minions stupid enough to be easily manipulated or wounded enough to kick back until she broke them. 

Crowley just found about it when, after some very entertaining weekends of family possessions filled with violence, she took their group to Scotland and, when he realized, Lilith was ordering him to possess a guy like that and fuck a woman like that – a small petit redhead who reminded him terribly of his mother.

The orgies, until then, had been horrifying to human standards (after all, the basics involved making family members rape each other), but they put him in a place of power: without a soul of his own, if the desperate crying of the soul inside the body he was possessing bothered him, it was enough to shut it up and forget they existed.

Without a soul of his own, he couldn’t really care less when it was about the agonies of other people.

However, that was about him. It was more than poking at his ghosts. It was about unburying them and strengthening them in the most sickening way possible.

He had closed his eyes and gone with it, and even managed some hair pulling and offenses, in the way.

He remembered Lilith laughing and clapping, delighted.

And then she ordered him to possess the woman and called everybody to stop whatever they had been doing and fuck him.

It was messed up in ways Crowley didn’t want to understand.

He enjoyed being a bottom. The thing he most liked in bed was to take control through offering himself to others and seeing them have pleasure because of him. And, still, being in that body was like an exercise on empathy for one of the creatures he had most loved and most hated through his life.

At some point he just closed off and waited for it to end.

Obviously, Lilith noticed.

She enjoyed every moment of it, watching his face while the demons did whatever they wanted with the meat suit.

And, from then on, she would provide that every orgy they went on had at least one body similar to that one. When the household didn’t come with it, she would send demons to kidnap someone, so was her obsession with his trauma.

The wound was reopened so many times that it stopped being almost incapacitating and turned into a throbbing ache deep in his bones that could be brushed aside when it mattered.

Obviously, it made Lilith’s interest in him fade quickly.

Crowley put his tie back into place the best he could with trembling hands, picked up his jacket and exited the room.

xxx

When he reached the first floor again, he went directly to the bar and pulled a stool to have something to support him that was not his faltering legs. 

The barman approached, ‘May I serve you something?’

‘If you have something for distress, sure’.

‘We have everything, pal’.

Crowley breathed deeply, took a look at the exposed fancy bottles, and decided to be bold, ‘Craig?’

‘Of course!’

And there it was – his preferred whiskey right in front of him.

Not really surprising.

Crowley sipped it, wishing for it to calm his nerves.

It worked, obviously.

No problems, in this world.

The clear head permitted him to think, and he was suddenly profoundly offended with himself.

He had a soul, it was in Heaven, somewhat Heaven permitted people to have sex – his favorite sin ever – and he had sabotaged a perfect night with memories of his time as a low demon.

What was wrong with him?

Why couldn’t he just enjoy things?

How could he-

‘Hey, gorgeous’.

The deep voice pulled him off his own mind to look at the person by his side.

It was a tall and voluptuous black woman, with big hair, a dress that seemed wrapped up on her body and two beautiful big brown eyes.

She kind of reminded him of Billie, the reaper with whom he had some pretty good moments in one of his hide-outs.

‘Hey, gorgeous you’, he answered charmingly, gesturing at the stool by his side, ‘Would you take a seat?’

‘I have a counter-offer, if you don’t mind’.

‘I am always interested in negotiating, darling’.

She approached more, making him open his legs to accommodate her hips between them, ‘I saw you going upstairs, earlier’.

‘Uhm’, his eyes went from her generous cleavage to her face, ‘Does it mean you had your eyes on me since I arrived?’

‘Yeah. I thought I had lost my chance with you for the night’, she licked her lips, ‘But you didn’t stay there for long’.

‘Didn’t really make it for me’.

‘I see’, her hand rested on his thigh, ‘Am I wrong to keep my hopes up about a one on one?’

Crowley was open-mouthed.

He loved this Heaven and its right-to-the-point healthy souls, ‘No, darling. You would be quite right, in fact’.

‘Well’, she smiled, ‘I’d like to hit it off with you’.

He smiled back and started getting off the stool, ‘Let’s do it’.

‘Just one thing’, she used a big hand to palm his chest and stop him, ‘We better make sure this makes it for you’.

Crowley frowned in confusion, but another big hand palmed his nape and he was pulled into a hungry kiss.

When her tongue invaded his mouth, a jolt of arousal coursed through him.

Crowley pulled that amazing big body against his and felt that the hardness in his pants was rubbing against a quite pronounced hardness under that dress.

She parted from him with a confident look on her face, ‘Second thoughts?’

‘Oh, dear’, he positively giggled, ‘I can’t even have first thoughts, at this point’.

She chuckled and stepped out from between his legs, offering a hand for him to take, ‘Come on, then’.

xxx

They climbed up the stairs hand in hand.

Crowley couldn’t take off his eyes from that beautiful creature who looked like she belonged to a fashion catwalk.

She chose a room, they entered, and she closed the door behind them.

He was surprised, ‘I noticed people are not demure, here’.

She turned her back to him, so he could open the zipper in her dress, ‘There are many kinds of affairs’, she jiggled out of the dress and turned to him, ‘I want us to focus only on us’.

She had been naked under the dress. That was why he had felt her erection so clearly, before.

He gave a step behind and couldn’t stop staring.

She had that confident smile on, again, ‘I see you can’t decide where to look’.

Crowley nodded, his mouth dry.

She had big breasts and a big cock, large hips and luscious lips. He wanted to touch and feel all of that, and he didn’t know where to begin.

‘Let me help’, she said, a hand caressing his beard, ‘Take those clothes off for me’.

‘Will you permit me to worship you, if I do?’

‘I love being worshipped, sweetie’.

Crowley grinned. Not just sex was permitted, in Heaven, but heresy.

He took off his clothes as fast as he could, eagerly watching the beauty who had gone to the bed and was waiting for him, staring back with those deep hazel eyes.

When he was naked, she smiled, opening her legs, ‘Come here and take what you want’.

His hands and lips savored her nipples, their middles rubbed against each other.

His hands stayed on her nipples while he went down to have that hardness in his mouth.

Saying he loved Heaven would be an understatement, at that point.

The woman moaned deeply and showed her appreciation, while Crowley felt her curves and angles with his tongue and fingertips, and her reactions drove him crazy.

Suddenly, she flipped them to be between his legs.

She joined their lips in a tender kiss, ‘You’ve not been here for long, have you?’

‘Not much’, he was trying to breathe normally, but it was difficult, ‘Why?’

‘You’re in a hurry’, she nose-kissed him, ‘Let me lead this for a moment, would you?’

‘Please…’, he groaned, ‘It has been some time, for me’.

‘I guess so’, she gave him a soothing smile, ‘Just trust me’.

He nodded.

To his shock, she winked and leaned to kiss his forehead.

It was so tender he felt his throat tighten.

She pulled his legs up enough for her to find the right angle and entered him.

It was nice and easy.

He could sing in a chorus of angels, thanks to that sensation of bliss.

She leaned again, further ahead, so her breasts were within his mouth’s reach, and Crowley got the message.

She was offering everything to him, but on her own terms: she decided the rhythm, the pressure, the amount of contact.

He whimpered like a puppy when she slowed down the thrusts or arched her back to take her breasts away, and it was exactly the kind of sex game that drove him wild.

So lost he was in it, in fact, that one of the times she tried to put a halt on it he pulled her against him as close as possible, desperate with need.

She let him press against her and move his hips until he came.

The post-orgasm trembling of his legs permitted her to separate enough to look at his face.

Crowley still had the intensity of it clouding his mind, but was already regretting that he had messed up and ended too early something so great.

Before he could articulate the thought, she chuckled, ‘You’re an eager one’, she slipped off him, ‘Turn around and rest. I’ll keep on going’.

He nodded, immensely relieved, and obeyed.

She closed his legs, entered him again and resumed the thrusts.

He rolled his eyes and relaxed.

Damn, it was good.

In Heaven, the right person was always there when you needed them, ready to make things right.

He had been found by a gorgeous woman who was attractive, understanding and open minded, after that fiasco with the orgy.

A woman with a delicious cock that right now was stretching him and making him bit the bed linen and curl his toes in pleasure.

She showered his hair, neck and shoulder blades with kisses and said some pretty dirty things in such a sweet voice that he knew he would do anything she asked.

However, she didn’t ask for anything.

This was Heaven. People did what they wanted and it never went wrong.

xxx

They said goodbyes with a nice parting kiss at the foot of the staircase.

She went back to her friends and he left the club.

No names were asked, no dramatic feelings were involved. They had helped each other’s putting back their clothes. She had caressed his hair to fix it before they left the room.

It had been smooth and made him happy.

Made both of them very happy, in fact.

Crowley reached the sidewalk and stopped, breathing deeply into the fresh night air and delighting in the post-coitus feelings, enjoying how deliciously sharp they were, in Heaven.

He started walking home, but then saw something he had never noticed before, and decided he couldn’t let pass the opportunity for Contemplative Scene in the Subway.

xxx

The train wagon was empty, obviously, because that was like he wanted it to be.

Crowley chose a seat and rested his back against the wall, eyes distractedly following the shapes passing in a blur outside.

He didn’t intend on brooding, but the night had been intense, and soon his sharp mind took over, wanting to debate the fact he gave up participating in an orgy thanks to the most unpleasant flashbacks.

It was like he had PSTD from being a demon.

He should have expected something like that. When he recovered part of his soul after the trial, feelings came crashing on him, and having emotions after so much time reminded him of what being really alive felt like. Now that he had a complete soul, more personal acquaintances would give him a desired high, but bring up some nasty things.

However, he didn’t expect to be so bothered by the memories of his time with Lilith – specially because things went so well in Heaven.

He had done some cruel things while he was a demon. Some of them were out of the need to protect himself, but one doesn’t get to be king without showing off; what should be haunting him were the evil things he had planned and executed – not the tortures he suffered when he shouldn’t feel anything, anymore.

Did it mean Lilith’s tortures hit the very core of him – an inner spot not even the racks had erased? Something that ran so deep it hid in him just waiting to emerge the moment he had his soul back?

And, if such a thing existed, was it possible that keeping a resentment against his mother played a crucial role in his existence?

Crowley sighed, suddenly tired of thinking.

He supported his head on the glass and closed his eyes, letting the movement of the wagon lull him. It didn’t matter how much time he stayed like that – the moment he decided to get off the train, it would stop, and he would be close to home.

That was how Heaven worked.

And he supposed he was clever enough to make the best of this experience, even if he couldn’t still understand everything that was going on.


	2. Crisis

Heaven was not bad.

Crowley kept waking up in the morning, eating a nice breakfast and choosing the attire that would make him feel like the most elegant man around when he walked to work.

(He loved it. He could use his suits and coats and all and get all kinds of approving eyes in the street, feeling like an international model.)

The place was a dream come true, when competently dealt with, and he had the most competent mind he had ever met.

xxx

Time was not a relevant concept, in Heaven. It was kind of non-existent, in fact: no one had a specific hour to wake up, or eat, or arrive at work. Things just happened.

Crowley felt like he should have developed some method to keep track of time, anyway, but when the idea occurred to him, days had passed, he didn’t know how many, and he let it go.

xxx

The routine kept nice and comfortable: he always woke up well rested and refreshed, got ready and arrived at the library in time, even if he went every day by foot to enjoy the nice eternal lightly breezy morning and catwalk.

(And, even if he didn’t get there at what one could consider appropriate time, there was no problem. People could arrive late at places, including work. No one judged or even controlled them.)

The night activities almost ceased: Crowley went back to the club to watch some intriguing music jigs by artists who didn’t have the opportunity to, while alive, and drag shows he always wanted to see live.

(The gorgeous black woman was there twice, and they had a lot of fun both times, with nice small talk and then, a private room.)

He was received by a joyful Hannah every morning, and she would leave him alone to work in the task of the day. Usually, it was a pile of books to be perused and classified, but sometimes he was asked to work in one of the specialized rooms – for maps, historical contracts and legal documents, or reference (dictionaries and encyclopedias).

He truly enjoyed the tasks. They gave him a sense of purpose.

He enjoyed his apartment, too. It was elegant, with the right amount of space to be comfortable but not so large it felt empty.

xxx

Things should be perfect.

It was with a certain amount of surprise that Crowley caught himself having an increasing feeling of unease.

During the day, when his time was occupied by work, Hannah’s soothing background presence and some people who frequented the library, he barely felt it. It was there, but he had so much to do, and found such peace in it, that it was a matter of brush it aside and go on.

However, at night, when he was by himself, after watching his favorite shows and eating something that was always perfect – prepared by himself or not –, he would be assaulted by the feeling.

He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something was amiss.

In a perfect reality, with no problems or conflicts, no danger or need, there was no space for something to be amiss and, still, there was no other way to qualify how he felt.

When the thoughts got him in a loop ( _I feel strange. But this world is perfect. However, I feel strange. In a perfect world. How is it? How can I feel strange? But I do._ ), he just wished himself to sleep.

Obviously, it worked, for it was Heaven.

xxx

He had just finished rolling up some city charts in the map room and was stretching deliciously before starting the analysis of the big map spread on the wall when Hannah knocked on the door and entered, ‘I know we never talked about you going back to the club after your ordeal…’

Starting conversation without any preamble was the _modus operandi_ in Heaven; thus, Crowley leaned his head in confusion at the content, ‘Club?’

‘We used to meet for drinks, chat and dance’.

‘Who are _we_?’

‘People with similar interests’, she shrugged, ‘I’ve seen you in the sidewalk some nights, and I guessed you would come over, but you always cross the street’.

So, he had felt pulled to that other club because he had been there?

It meant he had had a life in Heaven before?

_What the-_

‘There will be a meeting tonight’, Hannah leaned in closer, ‘It would be very important that you made an appearance’.

‘Why?’

‘Trust me – it is’.

xxx

He went home. He pondered on it.

And, even if he was certain that this was some form of manipulation, he decided to attend.

It was something new to do and, maybe, a lead to whatever had been bothering him.

xxx

Crowley sat at the bar, asked for his Craig and stayed there, comfortable with the atmosphere. Hannah had waved at him happily and had known, obviously, that it was enough of a greeting and, probably, for the whole night, in term of interaction.

(They got along, but he didn’t feel chatty, in Heaven, curiously.)

He sipped with no hurry, enjoying the upbeat music and kind of glad to be there, doing something and nothing.

‘Hey’.

Crowley looked at the person who had sat by his side.

The light was not that good, and he straightened his back and stared openly, eyes going from head to toe and back.

It was a man in his late twenties. Maybe a bit older.

(The light was really not good.)

He had a bright smile and blue eyes with just the right amount of tease.

He had large shoulders, defined forearms and pretty hands holding a drink.

He looked like a Greek god, in fact, if Greek gods could look at you as a Golden Retriever.

‘Hello, boy’.

The free hand was extended to him, ‘I’m Philip’.

‘I’m-’

‘James’, the guy spoke, excited, ‘I know’.

Their hands touched.

Crowley hadn’t felt a spark like that for a long time.

In fact, he didn’t remember when it was the last time a simple touch elicited such a strong physical reaction. He had been used to touch souls and carve deal into flesh. This was-

‘I know you from the library’, the guy let go, ‘Where you work’.

‘Oh’, Crowley looked down at the liquid in his tumbler. He needed a moment to collect himself, ‘We have a detective among us’, he raised the tumbler in a mocking toast, ‘Congratulations’.

The smile turned into a grin, and a toast was made, ‘I’ve won something already? Nice!’

Crowley took a big gulp and grimaced.

Nice, handsome and with a sense of humor.

Bad, bad news.

He looked around, trying to find an excuse to leave.

‘I love reading and writing’, Phillip spoke, ‘Books are one of my passions’.

Crowley nodded, eyes wandering, mind reeling.

‘I went there some times’.

That caught his attention, ‘Where?’

‘To the library’.

‘I confess I don’t remember you…’

‘Always in white t-shirts’, The man was gesturing animatedly to help with the image, ‘Always asking questions…’, a moment searching for other hint, ‘…Had to write down the name of the authors from Slavic Literature I asked for…’

‘Wait’, Crowley lifted a finger, ‘The guy I told to stop at the Russians?’

‘Yeah!’, Phillip laughed, ‘You remember me! Cool!’

Phillip stared into Crowley’s eyes.

For a long, long moment.

And then, he licked his lips.

Crowley broke the tension adjusting in the bar stool, ‘It’s my first time in this place. Always thought bookworms didn’t enjoy these kinds of gatherings’.

‘It’s nice to meet people in books and it’s nice to see people in real life’, Phillip offered a dazzling smile.

Crowley just nodded.

He felt strange.

He was attracted to the man, but something was bothering him.

‘You were gone for some time’, Phillip said, suddenly serious, ‘Are you recovered from your ordeal?’

So, people _knew_ about it?

And everybody called it _ordeal_?

Crowley didn’t know what to do of the new finding, so he answered as vaguely as possible, ‘I’m on my way’.

Phillip nodded, ‘I’ve missed you’.

‘Pardon?’

‘I used to go to the library to see you’, he leaned his head, looking at Crowley with affection, ‘We exchanged some words, but I think I was too subtle. You never understood what I was trying to say’.

Crowley didn’t really want to ask, but he did, ‘And what was it?’

‘That you are the most charming and handsome man I have ever seen’.

Crowley was shocked.

‘I don’t want to put any pressure on you, but…’, Phillip rested a hand on Crowley’s, delicately, ‘I want you to know I’m here’.

Crowley looked at the gorgeous fingers.

They made thrills go up his arm.

The fingers moved, enlacing his hand.

More thrills.

He cleared his throat to speak, ‘I’m flattered, but…I don’t think I’m ready for… _that_ , pet’.

Phillip leaned closer and spoke into Crowley’s ear, ‘I’ll hit the dance floor. When you change your mind, just give me the look and I’ll be right back’.

Crowley didn’t even have the chance to get offended by the _when_ , the wink and the bold kiss on his cheek because, the moment he recovered enough to turn on his seat, his eyes fell on that moron moving his body to whatever song was playing, and time stopped.

The guy had a way with his hips that made Crowley quickly hard and uncomfortable in his pants.

He wanted that man who had just offered himself through words and gestures, and now was offering himself again, dancing like he was made to seduce, laughing with his friends, head back, beautiful neck exposed to be tasted.

Phillip threw a sinful look across the room, and Crowley had to cross his legs.

It was a blatant invitation for sex.

Crowley took a healthy gulp of Craig.

The whole situation spelled _trap_ : the gorgeous guy who came out of nowhere, said they had met before, complimented him, spoke and touched him with outrageous intimacy while stating he had been too subtle, before.

It had to be a trap.

And, even if he was certain that it was some kind of set-up, the chemistry was very real. He couldn’t ignore it.

Besides, he always had had a weak spot for lascivious beings with a mind of their own. 

He sipped his whisky slowly, showing the guy he had his undivided attention.

Noticing it, Phillip locked eyes with him while dancing.

Crowley couldn’t take it anymore.

He gulped down the rest of the Scotch, settled down the tumbler, put one hand over his middle, palming his erection through his clothes, and raised his brows.

(No one noticed the indiscretion, obviously, for it was Heaven.

Phillip noticed and understood it, immediately, for it was Heaven.)

The guy almost ran across the room and then halted in front of Crowley, keeping a teasing distance, ‘So?’

Crowley looked at him, head to toe again, measuring the danger.

He saw the grin that illuminated the face, the big hopeful eyes, the skin with a fine line of sweat, the muscles under the clothes, the chest moving with each breath.

Oh, yes. Absolute danger.

There was no way he could say _no_.

‘If your offer is still on, darling, I’d like to see how you move in my bed’.

‘My offer is always on for you’.

xxx

Fifteen minutes later, Crowley was sprawled on his bed, naked.

Phillip was sucking him, one finger inside, teasing his prostate.

The younger guy’s opening line when the apartment door closed behind them was ‘ _I prefer to bottom, but I’ll switch as much as you like, baby_ ’, and after that Crowley didn’t really remember anything but a desperate need to take off their clothes and reach the bedroom as quick as possible.

Phillip was so generous it was disconcerting.

‘Take it easy’, Crowley asked, ‘There’s too much chemistry going on here’.

‘I don’t mind giving you pleasure’.

‘But I mind finishing up too soon’.

‘Ok’, the gorgeous smiling face was suddenly above his, ‘Choose a position, then’.

One of the things Crowley most loved in Heaven was the safeness of having anyone behind him without fear of being attacked. So, he turned to lay on his stomach, ‘Ride me, darling’.

And Phillip did it – with an ease and energy that made Crowley clench his hands and bit the pillow to keep from coming too quick.

Noticing how tense he had made his partner, Phillip slowed down and leaned to kiss Crowley’s neck and shoulders.

‘Uhm. That’s nice, boy’.

‘Anything for you, handsome’, a light kiss on his hair, ‘Since I saw you in the library for the first time I couldn’t take my eyes off of you’, a caress on his side, ‘I just wanted a chance to show you how I adore you’.

Crowley groaned.

It felt good but it was so, so strange.

‘I’ve been thinking of you for so much time…’, the slow movement of hips, ‘It made me crazy that you would be so professional when I talked to you’, a nose rubbing on his nape, making him shiver, ‘I touched myself thinking of you, and you just had answered literary questions and were so serious and to the point…’, the hips made big circles, ‘And then you disappeared…’, quicker circles, ‘And now you’re back, so sexy and perfect I can’t- _Uh_ ’.

Phillip came in the middle of that confession.

It felt damn good, even if damn strange.

‘Oh, sorry’, the guy spoke through gulps of air, ‘Couldn’t help it’.

‘That’s all right’.

Phillip chuckled, because Crowley said that with a fake annoyed tone while clenching his ass teasingly around the cock still inside, ‘I hope it was good. I really-’

‘Yes, it was fun. And it’s not like we are over’, Crowley moved his shoulders to relax them, ‘Come on, let’s switch. You offered to give the honors and start topping me, but it doesn’t mean I’m not a gentleman. I want to repay the favor’.

Phillip got on his fours to give Crowley space to move from under him, ‘You’re amazing, baby’.

Crowley rolled over but Phillip, instead of letting him and occupying the free spot, laid down on him for a kiss.

It was not rushed like the ones they had before.

And now Crowley knew with complete certainty that Phillip was a trap, because it was not just about the sex – it was about being loving and considerate, affectionate and fun.

It felt so good it must be wrong.

When they parted, Phillip maneuvered them, so Crowley stayed on the bed, laying now on his back and watching while Phillip turned around and straddled his hips.

The guy had muscles on his back like a Greek statue.

His buttocks flexed when he took Crowley’s penis to put it inside him.

It slipped easily in.

The younger man started moving.

The faceless body and the shameless moans made Crowley think of the most perfect orgies, where there were always a pretty ass offering itself to be taken, a nice cock hitting the right places inside, the wet noises of skin lapping, no personal knowledge or deep emotions at stake.

Among the moaning Crowley could distinguish some coherent words. Phillip said something about his dick feeling _perfect_ and wanting to be _impaled forever_ like that.

It was quite sedate, when you think of it. Such a young man with a sexual energy like that could sound dirtier.

However, a love-struck young man, doing it one-on-one with his crush, in a safe and intimate scenario, may sound just like that.

_Oy oy oy._

Crowley focused on his erection, wishing the disturbing thoughts away for the moment.

When he succeeded, he palmed Phillips hips and pressed them down.

The guy got the message and grinded with more force.

Crowley praised outloud the new rhythm and closed his eyes, feeling the pressure growing and growing until he exploded inside Phillip.

To his amusement, the guy still rode him for some moments more, touching himself and coming again.

Phillip gave a deep sigh, squatted for the cock to slip off and turned to Crowley.

The face looked like an emoji with two huge hearts instead of eyes.

‘You look happy’, Crowley ventured.

‘That was wonderful’, Phillip crawled like a cat to be at Crowley’s side and peck his lips, ‘You are wonderful’, another peck, ‘Do you mind if I take a nap before I go home?’

Crowley had a million answers in the tip of his tongue.

_Yes, I mind. Get your clothes and get off while I shower._

_Yes, I mind. I don’t share my bed._

_Yes, I mind. We barely know each other._

And there was the moderate _Sorry, darling. Maybe next time._

However, what came out was ‘You can stay until the morning, if you want to’.

‘Oh, baby! I’d love to!’

Crowley could feel the softness seeping into his soul-bones.

Phillip snuggled against him, he pulled a cover over them, they kissed again and both fell asleep.

xxx

It was close to midday when Hannah decided it was not enough to stare at Crowley across the room and went to talk to him, ‘How was it?’

He didn’t even look up from the book, ‘You set me up with him?’

‘I didn’t need to set you two up. The poor guy asked me how to approach you, now that you were back, and I offered to invite you to the club’.

‘Uhum’.

‘Was it nice? Are you seeing each other again?’

‘He is a very nice boy. He even made coffee before leaving, this morning’.

‘Oh! How adorable!’

‘Uhum’.

‘You know: you should stop calling him a boy. He is not that young’.

‘He left because he had classes at the University’.

‘Everyone who likes studying is at the University’.

Well, she had a point, for it was Heaven.

Crowley stared back at Hannah, ‘Anything else you want me to refuse to tell you?’

‘Oh, you’re impossible!’, she laughed, starting to walk away, ‘But you should look in the mirror more often. You’re quite young yourself’.

Crowley just rolled his eyes.

He knew exactly how he looked. The white in his beard and the receding hairline were the exact same from the day he sacrificed himself for the Winchesters in an alternate reality.

It felt like centuries ago…

The library’s front door opened.

Phillip came in, greeted Hannah at the front desk and looked around anxiously.

The moment he spotted Crowley, his face illuminated and he waved at him as if they hadn’t seen each other in years, and not just a couple of hours.

Crowley groaned.

It was puppy love in his highest form.

Hannah decided to intervene when Crowley didn’t wave back, pushing Phillip to the back of the library, towards him.

Phillip stood in front of the desk where Crowley was working, and threw him a hopeful look, ‘Hey, handsome’.

Crowley kept looking at him, cold and silent.

‘I was wondering if you would like to have lunch with me’, Phillip fidgeted, ‘If you’re not too busy’.

‘If I remember correctly, you stated this morning you had a lot of things to, and I quote, _disentangle_ at the University’.

‘Yeah, I had. But I managed’, Phillip opened one of his bright smiles, ‘I’m all yours’.

xxx

The plan in Crowley’s head was very simple: they would go to a restaurant, he would act harsh (maybe even adding some mistreatments here and there), and the boy would get the idea and disappear.

He didn’t know exactly where it went wrong.

Maybe it was when Phillip brushed his hand on his arms when he insisted on helping him with his coat, at the door of the library.

Maybe it was the way the breeze tousled Phillip’s hair when they stopped at the sidewalk.

Maybe it was the engaging detailed way Phillip described the restaurant he thought they should go to.

The fact was that having Phillip so close messed with Crowley’s mind. He had no control over how much he wanted to repeat last night, and his thoughts startled making circles around the idea.

When he realized, he was asking if they could go to his apartment.

‘You have some food ready there?’

‘Not hungry for food, now’.

‘Oh, man. Exactly my thoughts!’

xxx

This time, Phillip took off his clothes and went on his fours on Crowley’s bed, asking to be fucked from behind.

Crowley was so aroused he just opened his pants and let them fall to his ankles before he climbed on the bed to do it.

It was forceful and with a quick pace from the start, quite differently to what he had done in Heaven until then.

Phillip yelled in pleasure.

He really enjoyed being taken.

When he came, the boy came, too, letting out a growl.

Crowley slipped off and got out of the bed.

He was a bit shocked at the intensity of it.

Phillip rolled over, his perfect body leisurely stretching, then sprawled on the bed.

His huge grin spoke of complete satisfaction.

Crowley felt strangely proud, and a bit embarrassed.

Phillip did a last stretch and got up.

He held Crowley’s hand and pulled him to the bathroom, where he proceeded to clean his cock.

Not ready to process the pampering, Crowley looked around for anything to distract him from the sense of oddness, and he caught his reflection in the mirror.

When Phillip was done, he leaned to suck the cock affectionately, murmured _Delicious_ , picked Crowley’s boxers and pants and straightened his back to pull them up.

The he worked on the boxers, the zipper, the button and the belt.

When they faced each other, Crowley was very uncomfortable.

‘I’m famished, now’, Phillip said tenderly, seemingly not noticing a thing, his hand caressing Crowley’s face, ‘Do you have something in your fridge?’

‘Uh, yes’.

‘May I?’

‘Of course’, Crowley cleared his throat, ‘I won’t eat, now, but I have something for sandwiches’.

‘Perfect’, Phillip cleaned himself quickly, ‘It’s like you were prepared to have a student with you, uhn?’

Crowley breathed deeply, ‘You like ham, I suppose?’

‘Love it. You, too?’

‘I’m not crazy for it. You can use as much as you wish’.

‘Cool!’, Phillip pecked his lips, ‘I’ll put some clothes and make myself at home’.

Crowley just nodded, and the boy exited the bathroom in his usual bolt of energy.

When he was alone, Crowley looked into the mirror again.

Maybe he should be worried that he had bought ham in the morning, in an impulse, and now he knew that impulse was just another gear in the perfection of Heaven.

However, the fact his reflection showed no white in his beard and a lot more of hair in his head was a lot more concerning. 

What the Hell was happening?!

xxx

Phillip prepared and ate his sandwich, left everything clean in no time, and they left the apartment together.

They walked side by side to the library, even if Crowley tried insistently to convince Phillip it was not necessary.

He was desperate to part from the boy. He needed space to think. He had a gut feeling that he should put an end to that situation.

The moment they reached the library’s door, he forced a smile, ‘Well, our time is up’.

‘Oh’, Phillip pouted, ‘That’s sad’.

Crowley felt sick.

He never liked sweetness, but Phillip made it endearing.

That pretty pout was annoying, but he wanted to nibble at that enticing lower lip.

The puppy eyes were detestable, but he always loved puppies, and now he was thorn.

Crowley couldn’t understand how Phillip, all sweetness and care, haven’t noticed the turmoil of his emotions. He felt them written on his face.

Crowley stayed still while Phillip approached, leaned in, closed his eyes and joined their lips chastely.

Then he watched the guy part a bit and whisper, eyelashes enticingly lowered, heated eyes into his, ‘May we repeat last night?’

‘What?’, Crowley startled, ‘Now?’

Phillip chuckled, ‘You’re so funny’, he smiled adoringly, ‘I’m asking if I can stay the night at your place, again. I don’t want to intrude or hurry things, but I’ve been waiting for you, and this is going so good’.

Crowley shivered at the breath against his lips.

They were too close.

‘Am I scaring you?’, Phillip asked, all softness and vulnerability.

‘No, no’, _Yes! Yes!_ , ‘I’m just… processing it’.

‘I can help you with all the processing tonight’.

Phillip spoke and winked, offering a lovely lopsided smile.

‘Of course, you can come over’, Crowley answered hurriedly, feeling like he was in autopilot, ‘ _Encore_ of last night, minus the club thing’.

‘The club was a kind of foreplay we don’t need, anymore’.

Crowley got flustered and nodded like an idiot.

‘Well, I’ll let you work’, Phillip hugged Crowley tightly, seizing the opportunity to caress his back over the dark coat, ‘See you tonight, baby’, he pecked his cheek and let go.

Crowley watched, astonished, the Greek god walking away with the proverbial spring in his step.

xxx

The afternoon was a continuum of discomfort.

Hannah would look at him from time to time, and he could see she was curious but had decided not to make any comment or ask for details.

It should be good, but Crowley kind of wanted her to be nosy, so he could choose between opening up and sending her away. Anything to get him off his current mindset: having difficulties to focus on his reading, because his mind would wander to Phillip, and images of their sex flooded his mind.

Crowley daydreamed of his hands caressing the man’s skin, neck, ass; imagined the arousal getting out of hand, his nails like claws marking the skin, a hand holding a whip to hit the ass, then pressing the neck that was offered to him trustfully...

Those images frightened him.

Was he having flashbacks of Hell’s tortures? Was his lust turning into violence? Did it mean he was going to hurt Phillip? Was that the trap?

He left work in the middle of the afternoon, to what Hannah just said _Ok_.

xxx

The doorbell rang exactly when dinner got ready (for it was Heaven), and Crowley opened the door of his apartment with a flourish.

As expected, Phillip’s eyes went wide.

‘Man…’, the visitor gulped down, ‘You shaved!’

‘You noticed’, Crowley offered sarcastically, ‘Come in’.

Phillip entered, the door was closed behind him and he showed the bottle he had in hand, ‘I’ve brought wine’.

Crowley reached for it with a certain dose of hesitance, ‘You drink wine?’

‘I want to be a writer. The rules are coffee or wine’, he chuckled, ‘Unless you’re British; then, you drink tea!’

Crowley looked at the label. It was not a cheap selection, ‘I’m serious’, he raised a brow, ‘You drink wine or you did this because you think I do?’

‘Oh, I do drink wine. And I overheard once you saying you do, too. It was one of the things we have in common and convinced me I should give my interest for you a chance, by the way’, he reached a hand to touch Crowley’s cheek gingerly, ‘You’re gorgeous!’

‘Don’t be foolish’, Crowley grumbled, wishing desperately he could dismiss the compliment and not feel the thrill of it, ‘I’ll pick the glasses’.

xxx

It felt like a date: they had a nice dinner, with pasta and wine. Crowley was wearing one of his black shirts and his favorite silver tie, and Phillip had chosen a very stylish white shirt.

Crowley used his abilities as an interrogator and the comfortable mode to make Phillip talk, and the guy did: he told of his childhood, of his supportive family, of his previous relationships – he was good friends with the girl and all the guys he dated –, of his interests and desires.

It was all well-adjusted, pure and honest.

The more he heard, the more Crowley felt his guts twist.

It was not that he was disgusted by the guy and his vanilla life-style. He enjoyed his company, in fact. It was nice to have a conversation with someone who was energetic but level-headed.

Of course, they were in a perfect reality made of the souls of dead people who deserved to live their best lives, and that felt kind of cheating, but he could accept that.

What really bothered him was that he could feel himself changing to fit in that reality, and he had no control over it: not only his appearance was changing, but his attraction to Phillip hit him like it was something deeply rooted in a past that was not his.

Even the way his lust manifested itself have been changing to something more in the dominant side, once that was what Phillip enjoyed in a partner.

So, if Phillip had known James before, and they were a match made in Heaven (yes, he caught the irony), what was his role in there?

Crowley served himself more wine and gulped down the whole thing at once to force down the nausea.

Phillip was gorgeous. A saccharine life was being offered to the two of them - the New York grumpy librarian and the vibrant writer completely in love with him, living a satisfying romance in a perfect world.

So, that was his Fate? Taking James’ spot?

Crowley analyzed the man seated across from him.

He spoke animatedly, but not so much that it turned into annoying and loud; his voice was young but modulated; he was cultured, but not a snob.

His pretty hands drew concepts and ideas in the air like talented dancers.

He had opened the top two buttons of his shirt, and the beginning of a firm and well defined chest was exposed.

And those hands could do amazing things when they touched his-

Crowley felt a new wave of desire.

He was not listening to any word Phillip was saying, anymore. It was like those lips just moved to tease him.

He better focus on the conversation again. He had to get a grip. He had to clear his mind and do something but nod and murmur agreements, like a bloody good boy.

Phillip said something about clearing the table and got up, carrying their plates, and Crowley watched those hips swaying towards the kitchen, the round and firm ass stretching the fabric of the trousers.

He grabbed a fistful of table cloth in desperation.

It was like that boy put him in heat.

If that was his Fate, he should be feeling an emotional connection, shouldn’t he? He craved that – he wanted to hear he deserved to be loved –, and Phillip was so nice it would be the easiest thing to form that kind of bond. However, the sight of him pushed all Crowley’s blood to his cock and he couldn’t even think of anything else but fucking the man, with no affection involved.

He got up from the table, an urge to be raw and demanding taking him.

When Phillip came back, Crowley was leaning against the back of the sofa, his hard cock pulled out through the open zipper of his pants.

‘Wow’, Phillip was immediately engaged, ‘Something urgent happened’.

‘Indeed’, Crowley answered, desire making his voice hoarse, ‘Are you up to it?’

‘I’ve told you, baby. Always up and ready, for you’, Phillip gestured for his shirt, ‘Should I take this off?’

‘Take everything off’.

‘And you intend on taking me here? In your living room?’, Phillip asked, quickly getting rid of his clothes while Crowley picked a bottle of lube that he had hid under a pillow in the sofa, earlier.

(Yes, for it was Heaven.)

‘You don’t get to know more than what I decide to tell you, pet’, Crowley said, hand spreading lube on his cock, ‘Just do what you are told to’.

‘That’s so hot. Where do you want me?’

Crowley was at a loss of words.

The guy was wearing a jockstrap and biting his lower lip.

So, he had come prepared.

Exactly like Crowley, with his obsessive idea of shaving to show off how barely over forty he looked since lunch.

Were they truly in synch, or were they being manipulated by a higher force into doing the perfect things to make the other happy?

Anyway, Heaven seemed to be correcting whatever was disrupted when James had his body – and, ultimately, his whole life – kidnapped by the demon Crowley.

If, for things to be straightened up, a James must exist…

‘James?’

Phillip’s voice took Crowley off his train of thought, but the final station had already been reached.

_I’m turning into James._

He looked into the pretty man eagerly waiting for whatever he had so say.

He gulped down, ‘Come here’.

Phillip almost tripped on his discarded clothes to obey.

Crowley pulled him for a forceful kiss.

He didn’t want to think, right now. He needed something instinctive to follow, and not those frightening ideas of turning into a person he never truly was.

Phillip moaned in pleasure, Crowley parted and maneuvered him to one of the arms of the sofa, forcing the guy down until he was riding it, legs apart, chest lowered and back arched.

He grabbed a bit of hair and pulled it, ‘Are you ready for me, darling?’

‘Yes, please!’

One fingertip traced a line on the spine, making Phillip tremble and arch his ass even more, offering himself desperately.

Crowley inserted a lubed finger, moved it a bit, took it off and put his cock in its place, entering the man under him in one harsh move.

‘Oh, James! I love it!’

Crowley froze, his whole body tense and his face closed in a grimace.

Could he be James?

He straightened his back and looked at the man under him, compliant and submissive, in a position he, Crowley, would have loved to be himself.

If his sexual preferences were changing, his fantasies and kinks would probably change, too.

It meant his desires, motivations, interests – maybe even his memories and most personal knowledge – would be exchanged for someone else’s.

‘Please, baby, don’t tease me like that’, Phillip moved his hips, ‘I need you’.

Crowley started thrusting, slowly.

He let his instincts take the lead.

He started taking his cock halfway out and slam it back.

Phillip moaned some badly articulated praising.

He slapped the ass.

Phillip cried out in arousal.

He grabbed the hips with such force that his nails hurt the skin under them.

Phillip whined, whimpered and begged for more.

He fastened the thrusts and made the effort to turn any sounds into background noise, until he reached his orgasm.

Crowley gave a step back, like he had done when they had sex earlier, and watched the other man.

Phillip still humped the arm of the sofa for a while, his hands clenched on the fabric, until he exploded in a white mess that went down the already very wet pattern on the sofa.

It was undeniable that James’ attitude towards sex made Phillip very, very happy.

Crowley stayed watching while Phillip took deep breathes and grabbed the sofa for balance, his legs visibly trembling, and then turned to get up.

‘Damn, man’, he said, still out of breath, reaching for Crowley, ‘You’re perfect’.

He stood and started kissing Crowley, sloppy and kind of hazed in the high of the orgasm, but Crowley took an instinctive step behind to prevent any messes to spread on his clothes.

He immediately felt bad about doing it, but Phillip just chuckled, ‘Sorry, baby. I’ll use your shower. Then we snuggle!’

And he walked away, perfectly content.

xxx

Next morning, Crowley entered the library feeling the walk of shame to the last inch of his being.

Hannah greeted him with a strange expression – almost as if she knew last night had been big but that it shouldn’t have resulted in the doubts and feelings of unease that were radiating from him.

He stopped in the front desk, not sure of what to say to her.

The natural thing would be the usual greeting, but their eyes locked and it was obvious that both were aware of the strange circumstances.

He pointed vaguely to the back of the library, ‘I’ll be working in the…’, a pause where he could hear the gears in his own head moving, and was certain that Hannah could, too. When nothing came up, he just let his mouth speak by itself, ‘… map room’.

‘Of course, dear’, Hannah answered, very serious, ‘It’s fair you go back to where you were’.

She spoke and turned away, already occupied with something.

Crowley frowned, then remembered he had been in the map room when she mentioned the invitation for the club, and that he never resumed his inventory there, and pondered that it was an explanation as good as any other.

xxx

Crowley locked the door of the map room, pulled the chair on the only desk there and sagged on it, adopting his favorite _‘What the Hell am I doing here?’_ look: legs crossed, the palm of one hand against his cheek.

There were no doubts, anymore: he was turning into James, the man that occupied the meat suit he most enjoyed wearing, the one where he was almost cured, the man who would have met Phillip and been stupidly happy with him if a demon hadn’t messed it up.

He would wonder if this wasn’t a new modality of Hell – one where you have to pay for your worst deeds through losing yourself to correct them – if it didn’t keep getting better and better.

Yes, he was bothered and felt like he could throw up at any moment when he thought about the changes, but when he was with Phillip, things turned easily into flowers and unicorns.

(Well, sexy flowers and unicorns. They had woken up entwined in each other, the guy rubbed on him like a cat and they had sex again in that early morning.)

So, this was Heaven, everything always worked for the better and he was destined to spend eternity fulfilling that man’s destiny to gladly pass the days immersed in books and the nights shagging a gorgeous and cute family boy?

It shouldn’t make him sick.

He should be thrilled with the perspective of forgetting his miserable life as Fergus McLeod. Who wouldn’t want to forget being mistreated and abandoned by his mother? And what about the hunger, cold and sickness? And the unhappy marriage? And the son who hated him? And the last years as a depraved and lonely stupid drunk? And the Hellhounds that carried him to Hell?

And who wouldn’t want to forget about the racks and the tortures he suffered there? And about Lilith and her perversions that could drive the lesser demons crazy? And the atrocities, power games, backstabs and annoyances of being a demon?

And who wouldn’t want to forget the times he helped the Winchesters and was never recognized? Or the times he saved Castiel and was mistreated? Or the times he let his addiction to blood get the best of him and all those pesky human emotions – regret, guilt, loneliness, fear, empathy – got the best of him and turned him into a considerate teary-eyed moron?

Well, he was not certain he wanted to forget all of that.

Those things were what he was: Fergus McLeod turned into Crowley. He carried those things in him like different phases of the same being.

And none of that was James.

He barely acknowledged James when he possessed him. There were some mind screams and protests, but soon he managed to shut the soul down; the first time he was attacked and would be dead if he was human, the soul left for Heaven and he couldn’t care less.

(Maybe he should have cared. At least, now he would know if there was another James wandering around.) 

Crowley huffed, uncrossed his legs and pulled the chair forward.

Elbows on the table, hands joined under his chin and eyes unfocused in inner self-doubt seemed like a good new pose to deal with the stress.

He didn’t know what was worst: forgetting everything and losing himself, or not forgetting and living an eternity of lust and half-assed feelings for a nice guy who worshipped him. 

Oh, well, if he closed his eyes for a moment, decided that enough was enough and that he needed a clear head to rely on, he would get it.

It worked.

A sudden calmness enveloped him.

(Obviously, for it was Heaven.)

Crowley opened his eyes.

His sharp mind was back.

He had always been the master of contracts and deals, what meant he was a master at finding loopholes. He would find a way to deal with-

His eyes fell into the huge map he had been ready to work on when Hannah came to talk about the club.

It was still stuck to the wall right in front of him.

A map of the USA.

Crowley leaned his head and blinked many, many times, an idea dawning on him.

He got up from the chair and walked to the map.

He knew someone who had been a rebel against Heaven’s rules, was as dead as him, had a thirst for knowledge and a deep ingrained sense of loyalty and integrity.

And he knew exactly where to find that someone.

He had to go to Sioux Falls. 


	3. The long road

Crowley entered the bus station with one bag in hand and a heart filled by possibilities.

(Yes, it was corny. But the chance of a new start thrilled him.)

The journey would take more or less three days, depending on the disposition of the ones involved. It was a well-known and common occurrence that trips were delayed because a passenger invited everybody to meet his relatives, or some stray dogs approached the bus, forcing the driver to stop.

(Why would people not pet strays if no one had rigid schedules, anymore?)

Crowley would have gladly taken an airplane, such was his urge to reach Sioux Falls as quick as possible. However, airports were only for people who were going overseas or really loved flying, in Heaven.

(The _really loved flying_ part meant airplanes took off without a place to go. They just flew for people to delight in the view and came back to the ground.)

Well, accepting to embark in a long road trip was the way to go without useless fuss.

Crowley looked around for the appointed spot where his bus would certainly be.

He found the spot, but the bus, surprisingly, was not there.

He entered in alert.

In Heaven, everything ran perfectly. If the bus was not there and he would have to submit to a wait that was uncomfortable for someone who was so bloody ready to start a journey, it meant something must happen before the embark.

Crowley walked to the closer empty bench and put down the bag, trained eyes combing the whole place for any suspicious characters.

He wondered if someone would try to stop him. Maybe Naomi had found out of his intentions of evading the city and had sent angels to capture him. He trusted Hannah, but informing her that he was leaving may have been a mistake.

He had already mapped all possible escape routes when he saw what the delay was about.

Phillip had just entered the station and was anxiously (and very obviously) looking for someone.

They locked stares and the guy ran to him.

(It was impossible not to think of Phillip as a Golden Retriever, soft paws at work to reach his favorite human and deliver whatever was that small decorated box he was carrying.)

‘I’m so glad you’re still here!’

Crowley fought to not roll his eyes.

(As if something could happen against people's needs, in Heaven.)

Phillip extended the box towards him, ‘I brought a snack’.

Crowley didn’t make a gesture to accept the gift, ‘You didn’t have to’.

‘I know, but when Hannah told me you were going away…’

His voice faltered, Phillip flinched and shuffled his feet in agony.

(The Golden Retriever was so agitated he couldn’t stop moving.)

‘…I had to see you before you went into this… Uh…’

Crowley's no-patience was activated, ‘Let’s call it a _journey of self-discovery_ ’.

‘Right. Ok. Sure’, Phillip gestured for the box, ‘It’s a cheeseburger. One of your favorites’.

Crowley sighed.

Maybe this scene ended faster if he played along.

He took the box, ‘Thank you’.

‘Hear me out, baby’, Phillip stepped into Crowley’s personal space, as if the accepting gesture had freed him of any hesitation, ‘I’m sorry if I’m overreacting. This just caught me by surprise’.

Crowley gulped down and gave a tiny step behind, ‘It’s all right’.

(Well, it was not, but no sense in discussing it when he was moments away from getting on a bus and leaving this all behind.)

Phillip stepped closer again, ‘I want you to know I wish you the best in this trip’.

Crowley moved his shoulders uncomfortably. There was nowhere to escape, now, with the bench right behind his legs, ‘Me, too’.

‘You can call me anytime’.

‘I don’t think it-’.

‘It's ok, you don’t have to’, Phillip rested his hands on Crowley’s arms and stared into his eyes as if he intended to _coach_ him, ‘If things get rough, just look at something nice, calm down and remember I’ll be here, thinking of you’.

Crowley frowned.

‘I promise you’, Phillip went on, ‘I’ll wait, no matter how much time it gets for you to figure things out and be back’.

Crowley made one of his distorted faces of incredulity.

He didn’t intend on starting a scene, but no-patience got the best of him again, ‘Let go, Phillip’.

Surprised by the use of his name – or maybe by the unusual authoritative tone –, Phillip obeyed, lowering his arms.

‘It may not have passed through your mind, but focusing on things I’m leaving behind during a personal journey would be a bit _counterproductive_ ’, Crowley made sure to glare, ‘Unless you are insinuating that you are part of me – what I must say leans more to the _creepy_ than to the _supporting_ approach’.

‘Oh, but I… I wish I was’.

Crowley deflated at the sincerity.

He didn’t have feelings for the man, but he had his share of rejection and disillusion during his own existence. He knew how it felt and it bothered him to be the one causing it.

Besides, it was not Phillip’s fault. He sincerely thought Crowley was James, and could not understand why his James would leave.

He softened his voice, ‘I see where you come from, pet, but I must insist: this trip is about me, only me, and as much as I know you have the best of intentions and the purest of feelings…’, he offered a smile, ‘You are intruding’.

Phillip reddened and finally gave a step behind, ‘I get it. I’m sorry’.

Crowley nodded and extended the box back, ‘Here. Take the sandwich. I’ll eat when the bus makes its stops’.

Phillip lowered his head like a kicked puppy and took the box.

Crowley crossed his arms, aware that the gesture meant he was closing off from the sadness pouring from the man in front of him, ‘And don’t wait on me, please. I don’t know exactly what I’m doing, but I’m fairly sure that, if I ever come back to this city, I won’t be the same person you knew’.

Phillip nodded.

He sniffed.

And he spoke with difficulty, ‘I was not ready to lose you again’, he gulped down, ‘And it’s hard not to think you’ll be back’, he offered a shy smile, ‘You already did it once’.

Crowley raised his brows.

He hadn’t taken that into consideration: to Phillip, the man he loved was leaving _again_. The only difference was that this time he managed to say a proper goodbye.

‘That’s not quite right, boy, but we’re not having this conversation now’, Crowley opened his arms, offering a hug, ‘Come here’.

Phillip threw himself at him.

Crowley patted his back in what he hoped was a soothing manner, ‘I promise you: if I change my mind, you’ll be the first to know. But it’s not in the horizon, now’.

Phillip parted from him, slowly.

Crowley saw the wounded eyes.

His decision didn’t waver a millimeter.

(It was expected but, even so, a huge relief.)

Phillip turned away and strode to the main doors without looking behind.

The bus arrived.

xxx

The first part of the trip found Crowley in a peaceful state of mind.

The conversation with Phillip clarified things and took off a weight from his shoulders. He was glad to know he was not some insensitive monster who stomped off the poor guy’s sincere feelings without remorse.

And he was relieved to find out he was not a coward who was running away from affection without even saying goodbye because he might hesitate if he met Phillip again.

Things were settled: he was a caring soul and he didn’t feel anything special for Phillip.

He felt free to go on. 

xxx

The bus was comfortable and, without any notion of time but the huge windows showing the position of the sun, the best thing to do was watching the scenery without thinking too much.

(Some people even waved at the bus when they passed by.

It was like being inside a G-rated movie.)

xxx

The bus stopped from time to time for meals, new passengers or people who had reached their destinations.

It was not the boring and endless trip Crowley feared it would be, after all.

xxx

When you don’t have objects to track time, meals and the position of the sun served well enough. Crowley didn’t know the rate, but he felt they were advancing in a pace quick enough to not put him in too much distress.

Besides, he had always been a sucker for efficiency. It was very satisfactory that everybody was back to their seats, well fed and ready to hit the road, every time the driver called out.

Heaven gave you plenty of well-oiled gears, and Crowley appreciated it.

xxx

Everything was smooth and perfect until it was not.

xxx

Crowley suspected they had just reached the station in the middle of the journey when the speakers announced a delay for all buses.

He had just finished a delicious pizza, and a look around the food court showed people heard it, shrugged and got back to chatting and doing whatever they had been doing.

‘Well, if this isn’t unusual’, he murmured to himself, crumpling a napkin in his hand.

Realizing the nervous gesture, he threw the napkin at the table.

The napkin bounced and hit the man eating across him, ‘Any problem, buddy?’

‘I’m sorry’, Crowley shook his head, irritated, ‘I was not expecting the delay’.

‘You should visit the park just outside’, the man answered, picking the napkin and rolling it a bit better, ‘I’ve heard people here are proud of it’, the stranger threw the napkin at a trash can, hitting it perfectly and got up, visibly proud of himself, ‘I know I’m going!’

The man waved and walked away.

Crowley rolled his eyes.

Obviously, there was an agenda in this, and now he was invited to some stupid park.

xxx

The place was really pretty. It had different types of tress, bushes that made interesting trails and formed pathways among them, a lake with ducks and other big birds.

Crowley specially enjoyed the fact that geese, with all their teeth and fury, were present in Heaven and still looked at you as if they were ready to tear you apart.

They kind of reminded him of the Hellhounds: territorial, loyal to the Master, big balls of fury ready to be directed at something.

Maybe they were the only things he missed about Hell.

He chose a bench and sat, decided to watch the view and enjoy the warmth of the sun while he waited for whatever had to happen before he could go on with his trip.

xxx

When nothing happened for a suspicious (and uncountable) time, Crowley wondered if the lesson was to relax and not let that urge to reach Sioux Falls consume him so much.

He should be annoyed, but it was hard to be truly annoyed when the thing that inconvenienced you did it with such consideration. Sitting on a bench in a beautiful place was far from something to get mad about – specially for someone who had been through much worse waiting games.

A female voice startled him, ‘Juliet! Get back here! Juliet!’

Crowley turned to see an enormous black dog running into his direction.

He got off the bench to kneel on the ground. He had a feeling about what was going to happen.

The dog leaped into him and started licking his face and shaking his body in joy.

‘Is it really you?’, Crowley was scratching behind the dog’s ears, ‘Did you just find Papa in Heaven, you rascal?’

The dog stopped fussing for a moment and their eyes met.

There was something to be said about a dog’s devotion. It was all there, plain to see.

Crowley smiled softly, ‘I’ve missed you, too, my girl’.

‘Oh! I’m so sorry!’, the woman reached them, ‘Juliet! Get off the man!’

He looked up.

And was met with the face of Abaddon.

The redhead was accessing the situation, and she seemed apologetic enough for him not to be afraid of her intentions.

No sign that she even recognized him.

Crowley managed to pacify the dog enough to get up from the ground and greet the woman like a proper gentleman and clever investigator, ‘Hello. I’m Crowley’.

‘Hello. I’m Josie’, she answered warmly, ‘And I guess you were already acquainted with her’.

Juliet was sitting, now, very well behaved, her eyes going from one to the other.

Crowley decided he must be talking to Abaddon’s meat suit. If he remembered right from Chuck’s books, she had been part of the Men of Letters with Sam and Dean’s grandfather, until she was possessed.

He decided to be try a sincere answer, ‘I’m quite certain she was my dog… once’.

‘It means she’s going to be again, if her affection for you is so obvious’.

‘You mean _now_?’, he was startled, ‘I couldn’t keep her. I’m in the middle of something’, he looked down at the dog, ‘I’m sorry, my dear’.

The woman chuckled and gestured for the bench, ‘Shall we?’

Crowley nodded.

Juliet waited for them to sit and installed herself in the space between them, head on Crowley’s lap, back paws against Josie’s thigh.

‘It’s not happening now’, Jodie gestured at the dog, ‘She is currently signaling she loves the both of us, and my journey with her has just begun’, she patted the dog’s back, ‘We’re staying together for a while’.

Crowley relaxed and smiled at Juliet nibbling at his fingers, ‘How does it work? The dogs look for their previous owners to get some time with them?’

‘No one owns a dog, or any pet, here. Everyone fosters for as long as the animal permits it. And then something happens – a previous owner comes by, someone who is in need of a pet comes by – even if they never had one –, there is a sweet farewell, and the animal is gone’.

‘Isn’t it painful?’, Crowley was sincerely intrigued, ‘Humans tend to cling to what they love’.

‘I’m starting to think that letting go is part of loving’.

‘I confess it doesn’t make any sense to me’.

‘It didn’t to me, either. I was in pain for an unrequited love, when I arrived here’, Jodie smiled, ‘But it’s getting better’.

‘Do you think you’ll learn to let go through Juliet?’

‘Maybe’, Josie shrugged, ‘Or maybe she will help me to find the love I’ve been looking for’, she smiled, ‘I’m here for whatever comes’.

‘It’s an adventure’, Crowley realized, ‘That’s why you are so sure she is not leaving you now – because her arrival has a meaning that you haven’t discovered yet’.

‘Exactly’.

He sighed, ‘May this place give all of us what we need’.

‘From your lips to Whoever is in Charge’s ears’.

They shared a smile over that.

There was a silence filled with interactions with the dog.

Crowley decided to ask the question that had been bothering him, ‘You know where we are, don’t you?’

‘You mean Heaven?’, at his nod, she confirmed, ‘Yes’.

‘Do you think everybody knows? Because no one has spoken about it to me’.

‘I think people who knew about the supernatural knows this is Heaven. The others just get on with it, not caring to understand more than _Oh, I’m having a good life. Finally_ ’.

Crowley nodded in agreement, ‘You were part of the Men of Letters’, he stated, ‘And then, was possessed by Abaddon’.

‘It’s true’, she was surprised, ‘How do you know that? You were a hunter? Or a British Man of Letters?’

‘I was a demon’.

‘Really?’, Josie’s jaw fell.

‘Managed to be King of Hell’, he told her as if he didn’t quite belief that himself.

‘Wow’, she looked at him in a different way, ‘I didn’t know it was possible for the kinds of you to be here’.

‘I think I’m the only one. I went through a very peculiar set of circumstances’.

‘That’ why you’re on the road?’, she was intrigued, ‘You’re trying to find out if there are others like you?’

‘Oh, no, darling. There is no demon I’d like to see again’, they shared a look of understanding over that, ‘I’m trying to find out what exactly I’m going to do with my existence, here. I didn’t fit in the first spot I was placed’.

‘Wow again’.

‘You said it’.

Juliet started rubbing her head on Crowley, to get his attention, and then rolled to look up at him.

Something in her eyes told him it was time to say goodbye.

He opened his arms and Juliet got up to throw her head over his shoulder.

The woman chuckled affectionately at their hug, ‘She is very loyal and protective, isn’t she?’

‘Yes, she has always been. Always there when I needed’, he caressed the dog’s back, ‘I would cuddle with her and pour everything out, and she would be the best listener ever’, he scoffed, ‘That sounded stupid from someone who just said he was the King of Hell’.

‘It’s not stupid. Sometimes all we need is a good pair of ears’, Josie got up from the bench, ‘And to know that the listener loves us without judging’.

Crowley was shocked by the accuracy of that statement. It hit him in that deeply buried place he still couldn’t completely understand.

The stations’ speakers called all passengers back.

Juliet parted to stare into his eyes.

‘Don’t think you’re subtle, because you are not’, Crowley spoke just for the dog to hear, ‘You came because you thought I needed emotional support. And you know what?’, he squinted, then booped her, ‘You were right’.

Juliet licked his face.

Locked eyes with him again.

And then squirmed out of his arms, eager to be on the ground.

As soon as she was released, she nudged the redhead’s leg for them to go.

She was back to being Josie’s dog, already following the scent of some trail.

‘One day she’ll find her way to you, again’, the woman said, starting to follow the excited animal, ‘When the circumstances are right’.

Crowley nodded, a knot in his throat.

‘It was a pleasure to meet you, Mister Crowley!’

When he was able to speak through the knot, the two figures were already too far to be able to hear his answer, but he spoke it anyway.

‘Thank you’.

xxx

After the encounter with Juliet and the meat suit of Abaddon, Crowley felt like things were falling into place.

Was he certain that he would find understanding, information and help in Sioux Falls?

There was no way to be sure, yet.

Had he got consistent hints that he shouldn’t run from his past, and that looking for someone who could help him get in touch with it was a clever thing to do?

It seemed so, but it was too early to know.

Did it feel, deep inside, that he was in the right path?

Absolutely.

xxx

Crowley was not physically tired. Of course, it was Heaven and you could choose not to be tired, but that was not the point.

The fact was that he felt so on edge, so taken by nerves at every road mark they passed by, that his insides were shaking.

He couldn’t even consider the possibility of delaying his arrival in Sioux Falls, no matter the reason presented. He didn’t want more surprise meetings, more signs or indications. All he wanted was to reach his final destination, meet Bobby Singer and find out what comes next.

xxx

So, when everybody cheered at the news that there was some kind of festival going on in the last stop before Sioux Falls, Crowley didn’t know what to do.

People unanimously decided to stay in town for the next two days.

It felt like someone had thrown him into freezing waters.

The urge to go to Sioux Falls burned inside him. The notion of not advancing for two days, when he was already so close, made him sick.

He left the bus as soon as it parked, picked his bag and walked around the station, hoping for any clue on how to escape.

xxx

Unfortunately, there was no strategically placed stranger giving him useful information, no overheard conversations that pointed at a way out, no buses leaving surprisingly.

Facing that scenario, Crowley did what any sensible person would do.

xxx

One could say it had been a stupid idea resuming the journey by foot, because it would take many hours and destroy his shoes.

However, Crowley didn’t regret his decision. The way was simple enough – he just had to follow the main road -, the scenery was nice – surrounded by trees and the fresh scent of pine –, and he was certain his leather shoes would resist at least until something changed his current situation.

(He was annoyed, but it was still Heaven.)

xxx

The good part of walking by the side of an empty road was focusing ahead and act like a man on a mission.

The bad part was that sometimes focus faltered and all the fears and doubts that had been suppressed came to surface.

Crowley had been haunted by some of those fears and doubts for some time, now.

For instance: what if the man he expected to find in Sioux Falls – the one and only Robert Singer – was not there?

That was a reasonable possibility, in fact. Bobby could still be in Heaven prison after jail breaking Metatron. Or he could be travelling the world (Japan came to mind) and, while Crowley sat on a bus for days like a moron, Bobby and Karen Singer were walking hand in hand in some garden in Tokyo. 

Or maybe the couple was home, but as soon as Bobby saw Crowley, he would get a gun and shoot him, panicking at the thought of a demon approaching his Karen again.

(That was an intriguing notion. Were there guns in Heaven? Can souls get hurt?)

Those possibilities were already disheartening, but there was something worse.

Crowley’s main fear was that Bobby Singer didn’t remember him.

The man could have moved on from his memories as a hunter, choosing to forget the endless tragedies and losses of that life and start a brand new existence.

It would be the exact contrary of what Crowley had chosen for himself. However, he understood completely, if that was what happened. A new life that didn’t include the horrors one saw and was forced to do as a hunter, dealing with all sorts of monsters, was a healthy choice.

Yes, Crowley really understood.

So, if Bobby and Karen Singer were living an existence without the shadows and pains from the past, he would just turn on his heels and go away.

Even if he didn’t have a Plan B and would not know what to do with himself, he would not risk the happiness of other people.

He was not some demon who crossed states to spread suffering and destroy lives, anymore. He had already hurt Phillip. His quest was not more important than good people like Bobby finally finding peace.

Crowley scoffed at himself.

At some point he thought going towards Sioux Falls could awaken something evil in him, once he was choosing to embrace _Crowley_ as his identity. It was clearly not the case: he had a soul, now, and it meant he cared for other people. Rescuing his identity as Crowley didn’t turn him into a demon, again. It just meant he was back to being himself – Fergus, Crowley and all in between.

He soldiered on, stare firmly ahead, steps finding a quick and steady rhythm.

The only sounds besides his breathing and steps were the occasional insect and unidentified animal shuffling a bit closer to the road.

No cars, buses or any other vehicles had passed by since he started walking.

If he was a Winchester, he would feel like going towards a ghost town for a hunt.

He rolled his eyes.

 _As if_ he ever could be considered a Winchester.

He had tried. A lot.

He even threw hints…

_Dean Winchester completes me._

_Guess I’ve been Winchestered._

How ridiculous of him, when seen in retrospect.

The Winchesters were about family. Crowley never had a family, and would never deserve to be included in one.

That train of thought took him again to the fact he could be heading to disrupt Bobby and Karen’s happy life.

It didn’t look promising at all.

If he didn’t have this burning urge pushing him forward, the guilt would have provoked a meltdown.

The sound of a motor behind him broke the looping of bad thoughts, and Crowley stopped.

Maybe it was the ride he had been waiting for.

He turned and waited, eyes on the road.

A small old truck appeared.

With a bearded man at the wheel.

Crowley’s heart accelerated.

The man saw him.

The truck got to the side of the road abruptly, parking close to where Crowley was standing.

The man hopped down, closed the driver’s door and circled the vehicle cautiously, halting at a safe distance.

The man was looking at him from head to toe, and Crowley did the same.

The man was Robert Singer, even if he looked a lot older and thinner than Crowley remembered him.

His whole appearance, in fact, seemed to be a collection of his worst choices in fashion and attire: the cap was as faded as possible without falling apart, he was wearing at least three incongruent layers (including plaid and an incredibly unflattering vest), the shirt under all of it was so old one could see the rotten collar from a distance.

His hair was very long on the nape and the beard hadn’t seen any grooming for what looked like, well, ever.

Not even mentioning the horrible whipped jeans and unexplainable ugly shoes.

The expression on the face was suspicious but intrigued, and the familiarity of it filled Crowley with hope.

Gathering all his courage, he put his hands on the pockets of his overcoat (everything to pull up a memory) and initiated contact, ‘Hello, Robert’.

The man must have found his tentative tone very unusual, for he frowned and remained silent, eyes again furiously analyzing the apparition before him.

Crowley stepped closer, too anxious to care for his dignity, hands open towards the other man, pleading, ‘I’ve been travelling for days to meet you. I need to know if you remember me’.

That startled the man, ‘What?’

The firm eye contact worked like a pull, and Crowley went into one of his fiery little speeches, ‘I died in our world, and I woke up in a strange place that looked like a hospital, and there was an angel there – not any angel, _bloody Naomi_!’, he was gesturing like a mad man, at that point, ‘And then there was a whole life waiting for me in New York, but not really for me, because soon I was turning into another person, and IT WAS DRIVING ME CRAZY-’

Crowley stopped himself when he noticed the other man’s eyes going large.

‘Sorry’, he breathed deeply and started again, forcing himself to sound calmer, ‘Just tell me, please, so I know if this trip was worth something: do you remember me?’

The man took off the cap to scratch his head, put it again in place and spoke with a bit of hesitance, as if he was not sure what was required of him, ‘Yeah, I remember. You’re Crowley’.

‘It’s not enough, unfortunately’, Crowley gulped down, nervous, ‘Do you know who-what I was?’

‘Demon’, the man said, now with certainty, ‘King of the Rotten’, his voice got stronger, ‘Got my soul in exchange for info on Death and didn’t want to give it back. Had to blackmail you for you to stop exploring loopholes in your own damned contract’.

Crowley let out all the air he had been holding.

He leaned forwards, hands on his knees, as if he needed support to keep standing, the relief taking a toll on him.

‘And I’m Bobby Singer’, the man scoffed, ‘Not that it matters’.

Crowley laughed, the tension leaving his soul, and straightened his back, ‘I’m sorry, darling. I must have sounded terribly rude’.

‘You did look like you were desperate’.

‘You have no idea’, Crowley raised a finger, ‘For the records: you should have read the contract before signing. Not my fault you didn’t notice the loophole until it was too late’.

‘I had no time for that, then. And I’m not discussing it now’, Bobby reached _normal conversational_ distance, ‘About that whole identity thing you said: why did you come to me?’

Crowley put his hands on the pockets of his coat, again. It was time to negotiate, ‘I needed someone who had known me, and now was sharing Heaven with me; someone with the mental resources and enough generosity to help me solve this mystery of my double identity. I just could think of you’.

Bobby kept looking at Crowley’s face for some moments.

Crowley stared back and waited, giving the man space to think.

‘It makes sense’, Bobby said, and turned to the truck, ‘Let’s go’.

‘Where?’

‘To the yard. It still exists, here’.

‘I guessed so, but…’

Bobby was already entering the truck, ‘Come on!’

Crowley obeyed, excited to occupy shotgun, ‘Aren’t you suspicious?’, he closed the door by his side and noticed Bobby had waited for him to settle to hit the road again, ‘You’re just taking me to your house like that?’

‘You have anywhere else to go?’

‘No, but… I didn’t expect you to trust me so easily’, he face palmed, ‘I don’t believe I’m saying that. That’s what an incompetent villain would say’.

Bobby smiled lightly, ‘First of all, you’re in Heaven. It means you have some sort of soul, and are not a demon, anymore’.

‘Some unique circumstances and good deeds gave me a chance of redemption’.

‘That would be enough for me, but there’s more – there’ve been more emotions on your mug in some minutes here than in all times I’ve seen you on Earth’.

‘One of the downsides of having a soul’, Crowley snarled, ‘The pesky feelings’.

Bobby nodded, ‘Besides, I have no reason to think you’d want to hurt me if you need my help, and you look like you need’.

‘You don’t think I could want revenge for you overpowering me and getting your soul back? Or for something the Winchesters may have done?’

‘If there’s one thing Heaven taught me is that your mind frame changes, after death. Souls don’t keep grudges – ghosts do. That’s why they stay down there haunting people’, Bobby threw Crowley a look, ‘Been there, done that, you know?’

‘So…’, Crowley spoke tentatively, still a bit unsure, ‘You don’t hate me enough to throw me away without further notice?’

‘I don’t think I ever really hated you’, Bobby shrugged, ‘I could have kept you in the demon trap and told the boys to burn your bones after you changed the contract, and I didn’t. You could have come back to torture or kill me later, and you didn’t. It sounds to me like we had some kind of mutual respect thing going on then. Why not now?’

‘I would never admit it then, but there was something about you that resonated in me’, Crowley leaned his head in thought, ‘Maybe you are right. It was the integrity’.

‘Yeah. Even if just one of us always honored our deals’.

Crowley was ready to defend himself, but when he turned to Bobby he saw the man had a smirk on his face.

Bobby Singer was teasing him.

Crowley relaxed.

Everything would be all right.

‘So’, Bobby resumed the conversation, ‘Things didn’t work out for you in New York’.

Crowley accepted the prompt, ‘In the beginning, it was all I could have wanted: entertainment, a peaceful job in a library, no problems or doubts’.

‘What happened to shake you up?’

‘I…’, Crowley realized that could be a bit embarrassing to share, but went on, ‘I met a man’.

‘Uhm’.

‘He said we had met before, and that he had been waiting for me’.

‘On Earth?’

‘I thought so, but then I found out he meant Heaven’.

‘Creepy’.

‘Absolutely!’, Crowley was glad by the understanding, ‘He made puppy eyes at me, Robert! Every time he touched me I got thrills!’, he made a face, ‘It was revolting’.

‘I thought you were gay’.

‘I am as pan as someone can be, darling, and he looked like a Greek god’, he explained, ‘But he called me _James_ and it felt…’, he shivered, ‘… _Urgh_ ’.

‘I get it’, Bobby said, then seemed to realize something, ‘Wait. If it was in New York and you worked with books… Does it mean you were the literary agent?’

‘Exactly!’, Crowley clapped, ‘I missed clever company. Not that I had much, in Hell’.

That extracted a half-smile from Bobby, ‘Idjit’.

‘Now you’re trying to make me cry’, Crowley was glad to see Bobby chuckle at that, and added, ‘It’s nice of you to remember, by the way’.

‘It was your introducing line. Hard to forget’.

Crowley raised his brows in surprise.

‘Go on with the story’, Bobby fussed with his cap, ‘You said there on the road you were turning into another person. How did you know you were becoming this James, besides the Greek god you hooked up with calling you by the name?’

‘Well, whoever put me there obviously couldn’t decide who I was: the library gave an ID that read _James Crowley_. My apartment was a mix of things I enjoyed and things I vaguely remembered the former owner of the meat suit enjoyed’.

Bobby nodded to show he was following.

‘I lived as Crowley, there. I could feel I was Crowley’.

‘You wore black from head to toe and acted like a smartass?’

‘And had fun at the nightlife, and was always curious for new things and all kinds of knowledge’.

‘Why do I have a feeling you’re referring mostly to sex?’

‘Because you’re clever’.

‘Uhum. Go on, Crowley’.

‘Well, there I was, very happy, just being humble little me, when Phillip appeared from nowhere’, he breathed deeply, ‘From the first time he touched me, it was like I was in heat. I couldn’t say no to anything he asked. He wanted to be with me all the time, and I let him. If I had stayed in New York one more day I’m pretty sure we would be living together by now’.

‘How do you know you hadn’t just found, I don’t know, a soulmate?’

‘Because I didn’t feel an ounce of interest for him as a person’, Crowley looked for the right words to describe the situation to someone else for the first time, ‘Sex with him was incredible. It was easy and hot. But there was nothing else, for me. I couldn’t keep a decent conversation with the man without thinking of shutting his mouth with my co- Well, you get the idea’. 

‘Yeah, I do’, Bobby said, the tip of his ears red.

‘I have nothing against lust, Robert. _Demon Crowley_ would have found the situation hilarious, made the best of it and disappeared, but I couldn’t’, he joined his hands nervously, ‘I kept getting younger, and I suspected I was going to the age James should have been when he should have met Phillip. My preferences in bed started changing to something that suited Phillip better. And, you know, I shouldn’t have minded. I was always very easy-going in bed. Being a demon doesn’t give you much option, in fact, but I had been always quite adventurous – want to try an innovative position? I’m in. Want to put some unexpected thing inside me? Sure, with a decent head start. But that was not what Phillip did to me – his mere presence turned me effortlessly into what _he_ enjoyed, and it was like I didn’t have any control or even awareness of what I was doing’.

Bobby didn’t seem bothered by the oversharing. He was too focused on the matter at hand, ‘You’re saying it felt good and was easy, but it bothered you that you didn’t feel like yourself…’

‘Yes’.

‘A changing like that must feel odd but, in the end of the day, you had found someone’, Bobby questioned, ‘Wasn’t the changes worth a nice life?’

‘My mindset was changing quickly, but it was mostly sex-oriented’.

‘No feelings?’, Bobby frowned, ‘Even with the days passing and you two being closer, it was still only lust?’

‘Only crescent and unstoppable lust’.

‘I get it, now’, Bobby sighed, ‘Changing into another person, maybe forgetting everything about yourself, for something that didn’t feel like the real deal’, he nodded, ‘Not worth it’.

‘Then you understand why I left everything behind’.

‘I do’, Bobby nodded, ‘You were pushed towards the _James_ side when you met Phillip, and it didn’t work out for you; so, you thought it was time to try the other side’.

Crowley smirked, ‘The _wild side_ , if you want’.

‘If you’re still a bit of the demon I knew, we’re having a Hell of a ride’.

They laughed at that.

Crowley felt light and safe in a way he didn’t remember ever being.

‘Here’s the plan’, Bobby spoke, ‘You tell me all about your life in New York, I tell you what I know about this place, we try to understand the inner workings of Heaven, find out what happened to you and if there’s any danger of other misplacements’, he took off his eyes from the road to access Crowley’s attitude, ‘How does it sound?’

‘It sounds very good’.

Bobby nodded, satisfied, and looked ahead again.

‘Before I start my tale’, Crowley said, very serious, ‘I’d like to thank you, Robert. Sincerely. I didn’t expect you to be so willing to help me’.

‘It’s ok. You’re bringing a mystery. It feels like a case’, Bobby smiled at him, surprisingly warm, ‘It’s great’.

‘You miss hunting?’

‘Not really. But it’s something to do besides re-reading my books and hitting the road with no place to go’.

Crowley was confused, ‘Eternity with your loved one isn’t exciting enough?’

‘I’ve been living by myself’.

And now Crowley was shocked, ‘What about Karen?’

‘I killed her twice, on Earth. It didn’t help our relationship’, Bobby adjusted his cap, distressed, ‘We moved on’.

‘Oh’, Crowley didn’t know exactly how to feel about it, so he settled for contrite, ‘I’m sorry, Robert’.

‘It’s ok. People change’.

‘That’s mature’.

‘Uhum’.

Crowley looked through the window for some time, and suddenly had the urge to add another information to that topic, ‘Did you know that the pets here move on, too? That they are not ours and may go away to find other owners at any moment?’

‘Ah, the fostering thing. I was surprised, too. Tried to find my old dog and couldn’t, and then Rufus explained that to me’, Bobby patted Crowley’s arm, ‘But you’re not a pet. You left a vanilla life because you had a very human need to seek your true self’.

‘Are you mocking me?’, Crowley squinted, ‘Because having a soul while dealing with crafty former hunters is quite new, for me, and I can’t say’.

‘This is Heaven. I wouldn’t say a word that could hurt your feelings…’, Bobby grinned at him, ‘Princess’.


	4. First day

Crowley frowned as soon as he stepped in the house, ‘Not a fan of open windows, I see’.

Bobby, who was already tossing his keys on the old desk at a corner, turned to him, surprised, ‘What?’

‘When I came here for our deal…’, Crowley crossed the living room, looking around curiously, until he reached the kitchen, ‘It was dark like this’.

‘You looked right at home, then’, Bobby grunted, ‘Didn’t leave when I told you to’.

‘Oh, yes, I was comfortable _and_ had a goal in mind’, Crowley approached a closed window, pulled the curtain aside with one hand, tried to open it with the other, failed, stared at his hands, made a face, looked for a cloth to clean them, ‘But now you are in Heaven. No need to live so closed off – Thank you, darling’, he accepted the rag Bobby was giving him, ‘There are no monsters lurking outside, anymore’.

‘I know’, Bobby was staring at the same window Crowley had been trying to move, ‘But I didn’t care enough to change things when I got back’.

‘Back?’, Crowley raised his browns in realization, ‘You went to Heaven prison, didn’t you?’

‘Yeah’.

Bobby started moving around, checking things pointlessly, and Crowley decided to press the subject, ‘Did you notice many differences here, after prison?’

‘Before it was just a room. I would read, listen to some music, drink. No sense of time passing…’

Bobby stopped fussing and turned to Crowley.

He had, clearly, decided to open up, ‘It was a _continuum._ One could just slip into nothing without even noticing’.

Crowley nodded in understanding, ‘The racks feel like this, when a certain point of the torture is reached’, he pursed his lips, ‘I suppose the human soul is not made for pointless repetition, no matter if in pain or pleasure’.

‘I am sure’, Bobby agreed wholeheartedly, then gestured for them to move back to the living room.

Crowley followed him, ‘So, Heaven was just a meaningless flowing, you spent some boring time in prison…’, he sat on the sofa, while Bobby pulled the chair from his desk closer, ‘And then you were back here to find out there was a new world to explore’.

‘Yeah’, Bobby sat and crossed his arms, ‘The whole thing had changed’.

‘Can we assume the changes in _ambiance_ imply a change in _management_?’

‘Sure. This notion of Heaven is completely different from what it was’, he pondered for a moment, ‘Whoever got in charge had the power to apply a whole new concept’.

Crowley nodded, ‘You think the new boss was the one to absolve and free you?’

‘It might be’, Bobby scratched his messy beard, ‘Or it could be a coincidence’.

‘No one gave you any explanation for the end of the punishment?’

‘Nothing. They threw me there and forgot about me, and then they threw me here and never came back’.

‘Typical angels, in fact’.

‘Could be’, Bobby uncrossed his arms and leaned towards Crowley, ‘But maybe this… new management got clogs in the gears and didn’t know how to deal with them’.

‘Would that explain why I was supposed to live a life that was not mine?’

‘You could have arrived here during a transition period, when things were not completely in place’.

‘That sounds reasonable’, Crowley scoffed, ‘Lucky me’.

Bobby had a small smile at that.

Crowley pointed at the desk, where there was a computer besides some piles of books, ‘I suppose using that is off the table’.

‘The angels must be in control of the whole thing, including this world’s internet’, Bobby glared at the machine, ‘I barely use it’.

‘Understandable’.

‘I don’t trust angels’.

‘Neither do I. Naomi could have explained things to me and chose not to’.

‘And even Hannah, the nice one, didn’t say a word’.

‘Exactly’, Crowley huffed, ‘We have to find a discreet and reliable source of information’.

Both adopted deeply in thought poses, then: Crowley leaning his head and looking around, Bobby frowning and glaring at his shoes.

‘You still have all of your books…’, the former demon mused, gesturing at the room, ‘Not just you keep the windows closed, but you maintain the packrat lifestyle’.

Bobby turned a bit in the chair to look at the desk and the shelves.

Crowley noticed the man looked startled – almost as if he hadn’t noticed the disarray of his living quarters, before.

That was worth further consideration, but not now, and Crowley spoke again, ‘I have a feeling about them’.

Bobby turned to him fully again, ‘You think we can find something in my books?’

‘I don’t know for certain. This situation is too -’, Crowley’s eyes went huge, and he put a hand on his forehead, ‘The books!’

Bobby waited for whatever brilliant idea had occurred to the other man.

Crowley sat at the edge of his seat, excited, ‘We met God!’

‘What?!’

‘Sorry, I’ll start again. Must stop saying such things without context’, Crowley squared his shoulders and breathed deeply, ‘Sam and Dean found a man called Chuck Shurley. He was a not very known writer, living by himself amongst the chaos of a neglected house-Oh, well, you got the picture’.

Crowley gestured at the room with two open hands.

Bobby crossed his arms _harder_ and pouted.

‘Everything he wrote turned out real, and he had a series of novels called _Supernatural_ that described the adventures of the Winchesters in detail – even if he had never met the Winchesters or knew they existed’.

Bobby uncrossed his arms and got at the edge of his seat, too, ‘I’ve never heard of him or his books’.

‘Neither had I, until Sam and Dean did. Fortunately, they were always under my surveillance, and I could read everything, from then on. Anyway, the series was a relative success: it had a pretty big fan base that organized events and did cosplays of the characters’.

‘Wow’.

‘As you must have already guessed, you are a character in the books’.

Bobby looked horrified.

‘Don’t worry. He paints you as the perfect hunter and surrogate father you were’, Crowley smirked, ‘The cosplays couldn’t mimic the glory of your beard, but you were- _are_ , I suppose – a fan favorite’.

Bobby fussed with his cap, embarrassed, ‘Get on with your story’.

Crowley relented, ‘The conclusion of their meeting with Chuck was that the writer was a prophet. Sam menaced the man for him not to write about them, anymore, stopping to expose their lives, and Chuck agreed’.

‘He lied, didn’t he?’

‘Yes, he lied. About more things, in fact: not just he resumed writing, but when things got ugly, years later, thanks to the release of the Darkness – I’ll get back to that as soon as possible, pet, don’t fret –, he went to the Winchesters to reveal he was not a prophet, but – plot twist! – God himself’.

‘It means he was not writing down Fate or some Higher Power ideas, but his own’, Bobby closed his fists, angry, ‘All the disgraces and pain and sorrow the boys went through were his picks to write a story?!’

Crowley was taken aback, ‘We joined forces with him against the Darkness – hunters, witches, demons, even Lucifer. As much as he looked like a good-natured nice guy, there was something about him that didn’t set well with me, and I couldn’t get exactly what it was…’

‘You had found out Free Will was not a nice gesture to give freedom to Humanity-’

‘-but his way to force people to entertain him’, Crowley sat back on the sofa, dealing with the realization, ‘So, we were not puppets, but he could have given us better scenarios, and chose not to’.

Bobby shook his head, ‘Not a surprise angels are dicks, if their example is an ass like that’.

Crowley scoffed, ‘The one angel who has some merit is exactly the one who fell in love with Humanity and disregarded all rules to protect it’.

‘Castiel’.

‘Yes’.

They nodded at each other.

And relaxed.

It felt like they had just clang glasses and drank to the memories they had of Sam, Dean and their angel. Under that new light, every decision taken by them was not so moronic, after all: they were sentient characters making desperate attempts to survive a cruel author. 

Suddenly, Bobby perked up, ‘I’ve got it! You want to find out if there are _Supernatural_ books in Heaven!’ 

Crowley liked that enthusiasm, ‘Does it sound good?’

‘Sounds like a great idea!’

Crowley grinned.

He was sitting in Robert Singer’s living room, making plans with the man and having his propositions being _bloody praised_.

‘There’s a huge library in town’, Bobby resumed, ‘I went there every time I got stuck in research. I say we go there tomorrow to see what we can find out’.

‘That’s a plan’.

They stayed looking at each other, grinning happily that they had a good place to start.

Bobby got up, ‘Do you eat pizza?’

Crowley was impressed at the sudden energy in the man. Having a goal seemed enough to take off some of the previous somber mood, ‘No more salt restrictions here, darling. Hit me with your best’.

***

‘We’re lucky we don’t need a timer’, Bobby commented when he opened the oven to get the pizza, ‘When we look at it, it’s ready’.

‘I know it means no milk is going to spill in the only moment we stop watching it boil …’, Crowley saw the smile in Bobby’s face at the idea, ‘But not having means to track time is one of the biggest buggers here, for me’.

Bobby put the pizza on the table and started cutting it, ‘I built a thing my first time around’.

‘Before the Metatron adventure?’

Bobby nodded.

‘I guess it didn’t help with the _continuum_ ’.

‘No. Every time I checked it gave a nonsense reading’, he picked one slice and put it on Crowley’s plate, ‘When I got back, it was there, untouched, but it didn’t matter, anymore. I had no idea how much time I had been out. I gave up’.

Crowley was intrigued that again Bobby stopped fighting when he came back from Heaven prison when he put the first forkful in his mouth…

His brain immediately disconnected from any worries and he hummed in deep pleasure.

Bobby was delighted, ‘That good?’

‘Salt, Robert!’, Crowley spoke through a mouthful of pizza, ‘It never ceases to delight me, and your take on it is perfect!’

Bobby grinned, his cheeks reddening, ‘You feel like that because it’s been some time for you’.

‘Centuries. Too much time, if you count the racks’, Crowley gulped down and decided to pick the food with his hands, like Bobby was doing, ‘But I have eaten in New York. This feels different. I’m really enjoying your seasoning’.

‘Well, I usually don’t put any more things on it besides what comes in the box…’, Bobby smiled, ‘…but the occasion asked for something special’.

‘Aw, pet’, Crowley was touched, ‘Thank you very much’.

‘You’re welcome’.

xxx

They sat in the external area, side by side in comfortable chairs, to drink some scotch in the late evening.

‘What are your expectations on getting updated, Robert?’, Crowley looked at the liquid in his glass under the moonlight, ‘I survived you by roughly six years, after all. You must be curious’.

‘I was thinking about it’. Bobby sipped his drink, ‘Maybe it’s more practical to read the books’.

‘You offend me. I am an engaging story-teller, too’.

‘Bet you can be very entertaining’, they shared smirks, ‘My plan is reading the books and verifying everything with you. I don’t want to rely on Chuck to know things’.

‘That’s acceptable’.

They sipped their drinks and looked at the yard.

It was a quiet night. Insects chirped. The shapes of old cars and unrecognizable metal things scattered around shone under the night’s humidity.

‘Do you still work with cars, Robert?’

‘No’.

‘I thought you enjoyed the grease and the hardworking’, Crowley gestured vaguely with his glass, ‘It would grant you a plausible explanation for the plaid’.

‘It didn’t feel right, anymore’.

‘You sound quite dispirited about that – Erase it. You sound dispirited about everything’, Crowley looked at Bobby with suspicion, ‘Did something happen at Heaven prison?’

‘What? No. Nothing happened. Literally. You just sit there. The _continuum_ thing at top notch’.

‘Then… If it was not something that happened there… Why the changes that created the opportunity of a new life, better than what you had on Earth, didn’t work for you?’

Bobby stared at the ground, ‘I don’t know’.

Crowley kept watching him, waiting for an explanation.

‘One moment I was in a plain cell, in the next I was back to my house. I went to the yard, took a look around and…’, Bobby looked lost, ‘I asked myself what was I supposed to do’.

‘And nothing came up?’

‘Not a thing that made a difference. No lives to safe, no people to help’, Bobby took off his cap, ‘I looked for Karen in the neighborhood. Found her. She was happy to see me, but had been happy by herself, too, for some time. It didn’t click between us’.

Crowley noticed the cap stayed off, in nervous hands.

‘Rufus came to visit. He was thinking of moving in with a woman he had met. Probably someone he would have been with, if his life had been different – alike to the _James/Phillip_ thing’.

‘I’m seeing the pattern of Heaven correcting what life on Earth got wrong’.

Bobby nodded and went on, ‘I’ve found some hunters. The Harvelles were all together and well; Ash was living the life he always wanted, in the Roadhouse-Sorry. I keep mentioning people you don’t know’.

‘I’ve read Chuck’s books a hundred times, love. They were not just very educative on the Winchesters’ ways, but on the people with whom they got in touch’, Crowley smirked, ‘I know _everybody_ ’.

‘That’s creepy’.

‘Thank you’.

Bobby shook his head, amused, and resumed, ‘The boys and Jody were not around, so I assumed they were still alive and kicking, and I saw myself out of options’.

‘I’m still not following’, Crowley turned in the chair to face Bobby, ‘You lived your whole life because of others. Now you could do whatever _you_ wanted, and you didn’t find one thing to keep you interested?’

‘I suppose I just didn’t see myself _living_ again’.

Crowley was shocked, ‘That doesn’t sound like you’.

Bobby shrugged, eyes casted down.

‘Would this be frustrating because you lost track of time?’, Crowley insisted, still trying to find an explanation, ‘I remember marks on the wall of your cell in Hell. Maybe time it’s more important to you than you realize. Maybe it’s a way to feel you are in control’.

‘Those marks were not about time’.

‘No?’

‘How could I track time in that cell, with no clocks or a window to see if it was day or night?’

‘Well, I used to send stupid demons to tease you, now and then. You could have used that as reference’.

Bobby sipped his drink, calmly, then spoke, ‘I made a mark every time you lingered outside’.

Crowley’s glass froze midway to his mouth, ‘You could see me?’

‘I felt the presence. Saw glimpses’, Bobby turned his head to Crowley, surprised, ‘You didn’t know?’

‘Of course I didn’t. It shouldn’t be possible’, he sipped his scotch, ‘I was too powerful at the time for you to see through the magic cloak I used’.

‘Maybe it was something about my soul. I mean, you didn’t really break our contract. You wrote on my skin that my soul was mine again and added the part about me keeping the legs. Maybe we were connected someway’.

Crowley straightened his back, ‘You know a lot more than I supposed’.

Bobby turned ahead again, ‘Yourself said I was clever’.

Crowley mirrored him.

They sipped their drinks, in silence.

Insects chirped.

Things kept shining with under the moonlight.

‘Why did you never say anything?’

‘When you came over to visit?’

‘Yes. You could have tried to negotiate, or at least demanded to know what was happening’.

‘I was waiting for you to make your move’.

Crowley turned to Bobby again, shocked, ‘Pardon?’

‘I thought I was in the right place. Hell could be what I deserved’, Bobby explained, ‘I guessed you were keeping me off the racks for some reason, so I decided to play sitting duck’.

Crowley put his glass on the ground to be free to lean and stare at Bobby showing how flabbergasted it made him, ‘You were not _playing_ sitting duck. You _were_ a sitting duck’.

‘And?’

‘I don’t know what astounds me more, Robert’, Crowley was getting frustrated, ‘That you thought you deserved Hell after all the heroics in your life, that you agreed to stay there and do nothing, or that I have no idea what to say regarding _my_ reasons’.

‘Well, at least thanks for the _heroics_ part’, they nodded at each other, ‘Well, you find strange I accepted Hell and resigned to be a prisoner, but you say you were there staring without even knowing why’.

‘I knew why’, Crowley pouted, ‘I just didn’t know what to do of it’.

‘That sounds interesting’, Bobby put his glass on the ground, too, and joined his hands, ‘I’m all ears’.

‘Just a moment’, Crowley raised a hand, ‘Let me think this over before I embarrass myself’.

‘This is Heaven. Just think things out loud until they make sense’, Bobby shrugged, ‘They always do’.

That suggestion earned Bobby a raised brow.

When he felt ready, Crowley spoke, ‘I wanted to have your soul. Using it as leverage against the Winchesters had been the original plan, after all. I knew it could have turn handy’.

Bobby nodded, ‘Following’.

‘However, there was not much beyond that. No formed plans, no back up strategy’, Crowley frowned, ‘It’s almost as if I can’t access what I was thinking at the time’.

‘I’ll try to help’, Bobby offered, ‘Tell me what would happen to make you think _Well, a visit to Robert would be nice, now_ ’.

Crowley smiled, ‘You make a decent mimic of my accent’.

‘Don’t stall. Why the creepy visits?’

Crowley sighed, raised his chin in defiance at nothing in particular and answered, ‘It may surprise you, but I hated Hell. It was dirty, stupid, chaotic, unsafe – all things I always wished as far from me as possible. I turned into a Crossroads demon because I wanted to be on Earth, dealing with humans, not in a place that smelt of sulfur and rotten flesh’.

‘Just for me to understand: you can choose the kind of demon you turn into?’

‘Usually, no, but I managed to trick Lilith’.

‘Uhm. Ok. Go on’.

‘When I became king, I had to spend more time there. And you know, time passes a lot more quickly in Hell. I just wanted a moment of peace and quiet, but there were always someone wanting an audience, for the most stupid reasons. I created rules and demanded productivity, and it just made things worse’.

‘Demons are not brilliant’.

‘No, they are not’, Crowley agreed wholeheartedly and resumed his tale, ‘Of course, I had mansions and hideouts on Earth, or could just appear in some deserted area if I wanted to be by myself, but I couldn’t stay out for long. And there’s a number of times you can spend snuggling with the Hellhounds before someone suggests you’re too soft to be fit for kingship’.

‘You could not enjoy your pets?’, Bobby opened his arms in outrage, ‘ _That_ is annoying _as Hell_ ’.

Crowley chuckled, ‘Yes, moron, it is’.

‘But that’s what Hell is about’, Bobby’s expression softened, ‘If you hated it, maybe it never was the place for you’.

‘It’s a nice thought, Robert’.

‘And I have more thoughts going on here. Want to hear them?’

‘Of course. Entertain me with your wisdom’.

‘I think that, if my soul didn’t belong to Hell, you went there to visit it because it felt different’, Bobby smirked, ‘I was an island of something else’.

‘Yes…’, Crowley joined his hands on his lap, bothered as if he had just realized something, ‘It felt good, and I kept coming back for more…’

Bobby grunted an understanding, but realized the changed mood, ‘What’s that?’

‘When I describe it… It sounds like addiction’.

‘It kinda does’, Bobby leaned forward Crowley, ‘It looks like it bothers you’.

‘I went through different addictions in my different existences – alcohol, human blood, sex. Maybe it is one of the strongest recurring features, in fact’.

‘Wait’, Bobby raised a hand, ‘I guess alcohol, in Scotland, and I know sex here in Heaven, with the guy in New York – but what about the blood thing?’

Crowley lowered his eyes, ‘That’s a story I thought you would read in Chuck Shurley’s books’.

‘It came around now’, Bobby softened his voice, ‘Maybe we shouldn’t wait to talk about things that are important’.

‘I wonder how many times it would have saved the Winchesters from embarrassment if they heard your advice on this’.

Bobby smiled.

Crowley went on, ‘I never thought addiction was a bad thing. I needed the extra fuel to get my bearings and go on’, his voice weakened, ‘When you have a miserable empty life, that’s all you have’.

‘I understand you. No one would fall for it if it didn’t work so well’, Bobby sighed, ‘I was an alcoholic, too. It’s a great way to numb the pain for a while’.

Crowley nodded.

‘But when I said you went to see me in Hell because I gave you something different, I didn’t mean it as a bad thing, like addiction. Addictions mask the pain briefly. They are not the real deal. I don’t want to be something that’s bad to you’, Bobby’s voice gained a worried inflection, ‘I don’t want to be like that _here_ ’.

‘I don’t think what is happening here is like that’, Crowley assured him, ‘The contact with your soul worked then because I tended to fall for any form of relief I could have, and I needed relief like nothing else’.

‘And not it’s not about relief?’

‘No, it’s not. I had a satisfactory life in New York, and could have my share of a safe sex-addiction, if I wanted’.

‘But you left’.

‘Yes’.

‘Maybe leaving is a sign that your needs changed and you don’t have to be hooked up on something’.

Crowley sighed, ‘I sincerely hope so’.

‘Hey’, Bobby rested a hand on Crowley’s, ‘I’m not _a thing_. If something bothers you, talk to me. I know how addiction works. You’re not by yourself if it comes around again’.

Crowley was frozen.

His eyes on their joined hands.

‘What?’, Bobby got worried, ‘Something wrong?’

Crowley just shook his head, afraid any other movement would take the contact away.

He spoke so low he wondered if the other man would be able to hear him, ‘Never heard anything along those lines. Ever’.

Bobby heard him, and was distraught, ‘I know what is to be a drunk, and you told me about the sex. But the blood addiction thing – was it too bad?’

‘Incapacitating, at times’.

‘The boys knew?’

‘Yes’.

Bobby took the hand away, so he could turn his chair to face Crowley, ‘Did they use it against you?’

‘No, they didn’t’.

Crowley joined his hands on his lap, one hand caressing the one that had been touched, not sure why the sudden loss of contact hurt.

‘How did they find out?’

‘They needed me to find an artifact and I was failing them. I called Dean while under the influence and they staged a kind of intervention’, he gave a forced smile, ‘More a slap on the face than some supporting words’.

‘I’m sorry you had to deal with it alone’.

‘If we resort to this kind of thing, we generally feel alone, even if we are not’, Crowley made an effort to let go of his own hand, fussed with his tie and decided to lighten the conversation, ‘I probably would have laughed at them, if I was clear when they offered help. And cried, if I wasn’t. So, maybe it was for the best that they were not nice’.

‘Cried?’

‘Oh. I forgot to mention. The high on human blood made me emotional’.

‘How does it even work when you don’t have a soul?’

‘Oh, well: new spoiler alert: information surfaced that it was possible to cure a demon through injections of blood purified through confession. One injection every hour for eight hours, with the ritualistic words said in the end’.

‘ _Cure_ like in having a soul again and locking it into the meat suit to use it like a legitimate body?’

Crowley just nodded.

He was feeling something he didn’t recognize.

It was uncomfortable.

‘How many injections did you get?’

It was a very strange feeling, indeed.

‘Seven’, he finally said, ‘Dean convinced Sam to stop right before the last one, because concluding that specific ritual, given some other circumstances, would have killed Moose’.

It hurt.

‘Sorry if it is not a good account of facts, darling. Chuck may tell it better’, he tried to force another smile, and knew he had just grimaced, ‘I never spoke about this to anyone else’.

‘What happened to you when Sam stopped?’

‘Oh, the Winchesters had me cuffed with magic for the ritual. They just dragged me out of the church, threw me in the trunk of the Impala and, then, in their dungeon’.

The feeling of pain intensified.

It was the first time Crowley thought about those days, after having a complete soul again.

He felt like the emotions were cutting him from inside.

He had to let it out, ‘I was left alone. In the dark. Mostly alone, for months. With nothing to occupy myself but the aftershocks of feelings’.

Bobby didn’t say a word.

Crowley kept staring ahead, but got restless, ‘I really gave you a major spoiler, Robert. I’m sorry’.

‘Don’t underplay it, please’.

Bobby sounded so sad that Crowley faced him, ‘Pardon?’

‘I guess the cure doesn’t happen just when the final words are said – if you kept seeking ways to get the high of emotions again when it was over, it means you experimented them through the whole thing’.

Crowley nodded.

‘It means you had to live with a thing inside you that needed emotions like a healthy soul but was not rounded enough to be healthy’, Bobby resumed fussing with his cap nervously, ‘I know how addiction can torment a person. I can imagine how hard it must have been to function as a demon when all you wanted to do was-’

‘Watch a sappy movie and cry my eyes out just to feel something? Anything?’, Crowley felt his eyes wet, ‘Yes, it was exactly like that. All the old pains and sorrows back, long stretches of empathy and generosity, hours staring into the darkest corner of a room and munching over regrets and guilt…’.

Crowley breathed deeply and, to his dismay, felt a tear falling.

He hurried to dry it, ‘I couldn’t stop. I liked feeling things. I craved every part of it – the catharsis, the useless remorse, the joys of feeling bonded to other beings through something that was not definable by words in a contract’.

Silence fell between them.

Crowley couldn’t stand it, after revealing so much, ‘It is ironic, isn’t it?’, he asked, focusing on a random piece of metal, ‘The King of Crossroads speaking poorly of written contracts’, he scoffed, ‘More than that: the King of Hell, who tried to organize and give some integrity to…’

He stopped talking.

It didn’t matter.

He shook his head.

‘Thank you for telling me’.

Bobby’s tender voice pierced right through Crowley.

He couldn’t even look at the man, ‘You would find out everything in the books, anyway’.

‘Not like this’.

Crowley shrugged.

‘Not through your words’.

Crowley nodded.

‘Not in the way _you_ saw it’.

Crowley had a nervous leg, at that point.

‘Not while sharing a good scotch and bothering the crickets in my yard’.

Crowley intended to scoff, but a strangled laugh came out.

Bobby’s teasing made the pain inside subside.

Like a _bloody balm_.

‘Have I made my point?’

‘Yes, Robert’, Crowley breathed deeply, enjoying the relief, ‘I think I’ve made it’.

‘Good’, Bobby put his cap back on his head, picked his glass and raised it in a toast, ‘To the importance of good communication and the best sources of info’.

Crowley hesitated, a brow raised, ‘If I drink to it I’ll be admitting to consider such heart to heart conversations an acceptable occurrence?’

‘I think they’re useful and I intend to demand one when I find we need it’.

‘All right’, Crowley picked his glass and mirrored the gesture, ‘To those’.

xxx

Crowley still didn’t believe it, so he asked again at the door of the bedroom, ‘Are you sure?’

‘Stop being an idjit’, Bobby gestured for him to enter and started showing things around, ‘Here is the wardrobe. I can make space for your things, too’.

‘How generous’.

‘Far from me to get your silk ties all crumpled’.

‘Good quality silk don’t get _all crumpled_ , darling’.

‘Do you want some hangers or not?’

‘Yes, I do’, Crowley looked for a place to put his bag, ‘But if you don’t mind, I’d like to deal with it tomorrow’.

‘Sure. Long day’, Bobby hurried to pick some clothes that had been carelessly thrown on a chair, ‘You can use this, for now’.

Crowley watched while Bobby kept piling in his arms what looked like months of plaid shirts and old t-shirts and other rags thrown carelessly on the poor chair.

When Bobby finished the job, Crowley put a hand at the top of the pile to lower it a bit and smile at the man, ‘Thank you’.

‘No problem’, Bobby grunted.

Crowley put the bag on the chair and entertained himself again watching while his roommate obviously realized he didn’t know where to put those clothes.

Seeing Crowley’s mocking face at his predicament, Bobby gestured to a door with his chin, ‘The bathroom’.

‘Are you implying I should hide there while you throw that health hazard under the bed, Robert?’

‘I’m implying you’ll feel better after a shower’, Bobby squinted, then pouted, ‘And I’m throwing this in the wardrobe. I’m not a savage’.

Crowley chuckled and opened his bag, ‘All right, I’m going to shower. I’m taking my pajamas and my toiletries with me’, he turned back to Bobby, ‘Can I have a towel?’

Bobby, as expected, frowned in the effort to remember where his towels were.

Crowley waited patiently, amused by how disorganized the man’s existence was.

Finally, Bobby moved towards the bathroom and pulled out a shelf under the sink with his foot, showing the towels.

‘Let me guess: that’s where Karen used to keep them?’

Bobby seemed embarrassed, and Crowley took it as a sign that the man was finally understanding that the way he had been living was not acceptable.

‘It’s all right, love’, Crowley said, offering a smile, ‘I appreciate it’.

Bobby nodded and left the bathroom.

xxx

‘Thank you for the suggestion, Robert’, Crowley stepped out of the bathroom very, very happy, ‘I feel quite refreshed’.

Bobby was under the covers, and kept staring at him in incredulity.

‘What?’

‘Shouldn’t be a surprise that’s how you dress for bed’.

Crowley looked down at himself, ‘Oh, well, I am a _silk pajamas_ man’.

‘I was talking about the long sleeves and the pants’.

‘If you want me to sleep naked you just have to ask, Robert’.

‘Do you see _me_ naked?’

‘I just see the half of a t-shirt. As much as I can tell, it could be a crop top and nothing else’.

‘It’s a whole t-shirt’, Bobby rolled his eyes, ‘And shorts’.

‘Well, then the logic assumption from your comment is that you must be curious about my athletic calves’, Crowley said, going to the bed, ‘Yes, I kept them in the meat suit. However, it’s going to take some persuasion from your part to see more of my skin’.

Bobby waited for Crowley to settle under the covers to deadpan, ‘I already took you to dinner’.

Crowley laughed.

Damn.

That felt good.

It made him feel generous, ‘I don’t have anything shorter with me, but I compromise on buying something, if it is going to make you happier’.

Bobby just grunted an answer through his own smile.

Crowley watched the man pass his fingers through his long hair and beard, and resumed speaking, ‘You are surprisingly accepting of me in your bedroom’.

‘I told you: we wish and we’re gone to dreamland, and then we wake up’, Bobby stretched his arms and circled his shoulders, ‘No sense in moving sheets and covers to other room for that, or rolling up on the sofa like a dog’.

‘You are right’.

‘Of course I am’.

Crowley found nice to see Bobby enjoying the illusion of a physical form, paying attention to his muscles.

He always liked his hands, and now he was seeing very nice forearms.

At such close distance he looked stronger than he did when they met on the side of the road, earlier-

‘Your shampoo smells nice’.

Crowley was surprised by the resumed conversation and by the subject, ‘Well… I used it on Earth, too and, of course, Heaven provided it here’.

‘You liked fancy scents when you were a demon, too’.

‘Leaving puffs of sulfur behind clashed with my good taste’, Crowley smiled, ‘Sometimes I would pretend to be gone and hide in a corner. It was nice to see the humans confused at the mix of demonic smell and some expensive cologne’.

Bobby nodded, pulled the covers to his chin and closed his eyes.

Not sure of what else to say, Crowley offered, ‘Of course, you can use it, too’.

‘Nah. It always felt good on you’.

Crowley opened his mouth in surprise.

Bobby had just said he enjoyed his scent?

That it was pleasant to have Crowley smelling like that in his bed?

More than that – was he saying he had felt that scent before and liked it?

But the only time they had been close enough for one to feel the scent of the other’s shampoo would have been…

The kiss.

_What the-_

‘Good night, Crowley’, Bobby said, not opening his eyes.

Crowley gulped down in order to answer with a dignified voice, ‘Good night, Robert’.

‘It’s been good to have you here’.

Crowley saw the small smile on Bobby’s face relaxing and his breathing getting even, showing he had fallen sleep.

He kept watching the man besides him.

Sharing a bed with Bobby Singer was such a surreal situation…

… and, still, it made sense.

Crowley had chosen to come to the man because, even if he couldn’t be certain, he firmly believed Bobby was the one who could offer him that kind of acceptance.

The strange pain surged again in his chest.

It felt like happiness and peace and a sense of safety.

It seemed to be a kind of contentment.

So, why did it hurt?

Crowley put a hand over the spot where his heart would be.

Bobby kept sleeping like the good and honest man he was, glad to have company, and trusting the presence currently sharing a bed with him.

Crowley realized why it hurt.

It was a mix of good feelings born from simple human interaction, but overwhelming to someone, like him, who had never had such a thing, before.

The pain in his chest dissolved into warmth.

‘Good God’, Crowley turned away and pulled the covers roughly over himself, ‘Enough for today’.


	5. Going to town

Crowley woke up.

In Heaven you get unconscious with no drama, you don’t dream, and you wake up at once, exactly the way you last were.

So, in order to feel like you slept, there is a certain amount of disorientation and a need to stretch in the first moments you are conscious again, when notions like _reality_ and _rest_ kicked in.

(Crowley enjoyed those _just awoken_ sensations. He delighted in them since they first happened in New York – he had forgotten what a pleasure it was being able to wake up as a normal human.)

A first look around reassured him about where he was (Singer’s house in Sioux Falls), and he sat to look at his bed companion.

Bobby was still sleeping, covers tucked on his shoulders and covering his chin – the same position he had fell asleep last night, after saying he liked Crowley scent.

It occurred to Crowley that, if Robert Singer had said those words after inviting him to share a bed, the man surely wouldn’t mind if those covers were pulled down just enough to satisfy a former demon’s curiosity, would he?

And then it occurred to Crowley that pulling the aforementioned covers was a creepy course of action to take.

It was completely uncalled for. He shouldn’t even think of intruding in the intimacy of the person who had received him with open arms.

_Very attractive arms, by the way…_

Crowley eyes recurred the shapes hidden under the covers.

He had been so attracted to Robert Singer, since their first meeting! He liked the gall, the braveness, the defiance. It would be ridiculous coming from a man confined to a wheelchair facing a demon and, still, the attitude was so down-to-earth and no-nonsense that it came out as _dignified_.

In the process of negotiating, Crowley had time and opportunity to see, first hand, Bobby’s cleverness and loyalty to higher principles.

It was fascinating to see such qualities all together in a human. A loss of precious material, if you asked the King of Crossroads: with a mind like that, Robert Singer would be the kind of demon Crowley needed by his side – aware of his role in the great scheme of things, knowing the rules but ready to throw them away when needed, decent and strong-willed when it mattered, cunning when needed.

When they sealed the deal, Crowley was able to touch the soul, and just a glimpse was enough to make his fascination rocket.

It didn’t help matters that Robert Singer was an attractive big man – the classic rough exterior that covered a gentleman.

Bobby was a challenge with certain rules, and Crowley loved a fair challenge.

When the contract was redone, he ordered his hired reaper to keep an eye on Bobby’s soul. Unfortunately, things happened and the King of Hell never had the chance to investigate any further that precious thing that was Bobby Singer. 

But now they were both in Heaven and starting an adventure together.

A much better course of action than peeping like a pervert was to show how good of a guest he could be.

With a nice idea forming in his mind, Crowley hopped off the bed to change from his black pajamas to a black shirt and black pants.

(He did it right there besides the sleeping man.

It wouldn’t really be a problem if said man woke up to a show…)

A red tie was added for good measure – they were going out to the library that morning, after all – and his black coat.

Before leaving, Crowley threw a last look at the man in the bed.

Bobby was the image of peace and safety.

It was good to be there to see it.

The former demon rolled his eyes at his own corny reactions and exited the room.

xxx

Crowley rubbed his hands in excitement.

The coffee and the grilled cheese were ready and on the table, besides the pizza leftovers.

Some hideous china, sugar and other breakfast-related things were disposed in the most elegant pattern possible given the lack of proper resources.

The delicious scent of coffee was in the air.

He was thrilled. He knew preparing the ambience for a simple meal was not much, but he hoped it conveyed the message. He really wanted Bobby to know how grateful he was for the reception, and that he intended to be as easy to share living quarters with as possible.

He was checking things one last time before going up to see if he was able to wake up Bobby when the man entered the kitchen by his own volition.

Wearing a nice pair of pants and a very decent white shirt.

Crowley was so surprised his mouth opened and he stayed frozen in place.

Bobby sat at the table, purposely not looking at him, ‘Morning’.

Crowley unfroze, pulled a chair and sat, too, ‘Good morning’.

Bobby took in every thing on the table and smiled, ‘Nice work, here’.

‘Thank you’, Crowley fell himself vibrating in joy, ‘There, too’.

Bobby looked up at him, ‘Uhm?’

‘You are different’.

‘Couldn’t walk around looking like a hobo’.

‘Yesterday you didn’t seem to mind’.

‘Yesterday I didn’t have a fancy chap with me’.

‘Aw, darling, you’re the sweetest, but don’t go changing for me’, Crowley was grinning, ‘I love you just the way you are – plaid, horrible vests and rags you call- _Hey_!’, he cut himself off because Bobby had thrown a piece of cold tomato from the pizza at him, ‘You’re going to mess with _my_ clothes, now?’

‘You wear black’, Bobby served coffee for himself, sporting a self-satisfied smile, ‘No one will notice’.

Crowley was fussing with the spot, ‘ _I_ will know there’s a stain here, you moron!’

‘Just put the damn overcoat over the suit and not even you will remember the pea under the mattress, Princess’.

Crowley let go of the coat, picked his mug and extended it to Bobby, who was offering to serve him, ‘I was thinking of laying off the overcoat, today’.

‘That’s new’.

‘Yes’.

‘Why?’

‘To get closer to your style’.

‘Wait a moment’, Bobby raised a finger, ‘Are you saying you have to _lower_ your standards to be closer to mine?’

‘Well, you must admit-Damn it, Robert! Stop throwing food at me!’

‘Stop being an idjit’.

Crowley rolled his eyes, picked carefully the piece of pizza crust from his lap to put it back on the table and proceeded to sip his coffee.

Bobby chuckled, bit the grilled cheese and gave him an enthusiastic _thumbs up_.

Crowley’s face got illuminated in a happy grin.

(No way he could be truly annoyed at that man!)

They ate in silence for some time, enjoying the shared meal.

When they had already finished the food and were savoring their coffees, Bobby made a gesture at the window they had been fussing with in the day before, ‘Decided not to take off the curtains?’

‘I thought it would be wise to focus on feeding the beast to, maybe later, propose changes in the current esthetic’.

‘Good thinking’, Bobby chuckled, ‘But I can see your point, now. This kitchen deserves to see the light of the day’.

Crowley noticed Bobby had not said _himself_ deserved to see some light, but decided not to comment on that for the time being.

However, even intending just to sip his coffee innocently without poking any delicate matters, he couldn’t help but stare at his companion.

Bobby noticed, ‘What?’

His curiosity took the best of him, and Crowley made a gesture towards the other man’s face and head, ‘Did you groom yourself?’

‘No. I woke up like this’.

‘Don’t need to be rude. I was just asking-Oh’, Crowley was wide-eyed, ‘It’s not attitude. You changed through the night’.

Bobby nodded.

Crowley felt a surge of fear, ‘How do you feel?’

‘No difference. Just noticed when I looked in the mirror’.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yeah. Why-Ah’.

Bobby realized why Crowley was worried.

He cleaned his mouth with a napkin and looked into Crowley’s eyes, ‘I get it this is how things started going down for you – when you saw the changes in your body’.

‘Yes’.

‘You’re associating physical changes with the loss of identity’, Bobby went on gently, ‘But you don’t need to fuss. My head is clear. I’d say it’s clearer than it was yesterday’, he smiled shyly, ‘I can even see the problem with the window’.

‘All right, pet’, Crowley breathed deeply, ‘I trust you to know yourself enough to notice if something odd happens’.

‘Uhum’.

Bobby resumed sipping his coffee, his eyes back to the dirty curtains.

It was obvious they intrigued him.

‘Besides, you look good’, Crowley added, ‘I’m not questioning such changes’.

‘You don’t look a day older than when we met, too’.

‘I was not referring to age...’

‘Me neither’, Bobby looked at him, ‘You said in New York you were going towards what James would have looked like when he met Phillip. I think here it’s happening the same – we both changed to how we were when we first met’, Bobby started gathering the things on the table, ‘At least to me, you look like the day of the deal’.

‘I was a bit younger, there’, Crowley caressed his own jaw, ‘I may have changed on the way here’.

‘It makes sense’, Bobby got up to put the things he had picked away, ‘Maybe the rule in Heaven is that you get the age that would be familiar to the person you’re closest at the moment’.

Crowley smirked, ‘You think we are close, Robert?’

Bobby came back from the cupboard. He reached for Crowley’s mug with one hand and shuffled his hair with the other, ‘What do you think?’

‘Stop it’, Crowley said with no heat, passing his fingers through his hair to undo some of the mess.

‘Or what?’

‘Or nothing’, Crowley got up, ‘I’ll even help you clean the table to show how much of a forgiving gentleman I am’.

‘How generous of your Highness’.

xxx

With them working together, the kitchen was in order in no time.

‘I was thinking…’, Crowley said, walking towards the living room, ready for them to get out, ‘The decision to not dress like a hobo was before or after you saw the changes in-’

‘Before’, Bobby growled from the kitchen, ‘I don’t dress up to match facial hair’.

‘Don’t need to get defensive, love. Some people - Don’t you dare – Robert!’

Too late. Bobby had already thrown a napkin at him while passing by towards the front door.

xxx

Bobby opened the library’s door and kept it so, ‘Shouldn’t have listened to you’.

‘Why?’, Crowley smiled, enjoying the nice gesture, and entered the building, ‘You look handsome in a suit’.

Bobby closed the door behind them, pulled at the coat he was convinced to wear and grunted, ‘I feel like the fake FBI’.

‘Just wait until you read about me and Castiel pretending to be FBI’.

‘What?’

Crowley didn’t answer. He was already going to the main desk and asking the attendant for Chuck Shurley’s _Supernatural_ novels.

(He was not above revenge, after all. Dropping a bomb while passing by was a delicious form of teasing)

The man at the desk consulted the files in his computer and promptly gave them the directions to the basement.

xxx

The descending of the staircase was filled by Crowley mocking Bobby on visiting that library – in fact, invading it in the dark of the night in more than one occasion – and never knowing about the _Supernatural_ section, to what Bobby answered he had more in his mind than paying attention to cheap obscure second-hand fiction.

When they reached the ground, Crowley threw him a look, ‘Really? That’s how you see our lives?’

‘That’s how I see the writer’.

‘Fair enough, love’.

They reached the appointed spot: the last part of the very end of the building, hidden by high and filled-to-the-top shelves of thick volumes.

Their jaws fell.

‘How many books are here?’, Bobby asked, astonished, ‘It’s the whole wall!’

‘I’ve read until 241. I’d say we have more than three hundred…’, Crowley crouched in front of the lower shelf, ‘Here’, he pointed at the last book, ‘307’.

Bobby whistled.

Crowley got up, ‘How do we proceed?’

‘We can pick the ones right after where you stopped reading’.

‘I see what you are doing and I thank you, darling, but we agreed you were reading from the start for us to share information and opinions on Chuck’s reliability as a narrator’.

‘Right’, Bobby put his hands on his hips, eyes surveying the shelves again, ‘It’s going to take some time’.

‘Time is irrelevant, here’.

‘Yeah, but… Aren’t you curious? You don’t have to wait on me’.

‘I know, Robert. But I prefer to go through it with you’, Crowley faced Bobby to show he was serious about it.

‘Ok’.

‘Besides, I don’t think there is any need to hurry. If something was to attack us, we would have already been hit’.

‘Uhum’, Bobby passed his fingers on his now very well trimmed beard distractedly.

Crowley liked that new visual. Without the cap and with a beard cared for, the man looked so elegant and, at the same time, so approachable...

The voice cut off his thoughts, ‘How many do we take today?’

Crowley turned to the shelves, ‘As much as we can carry to the truck without looking like two morons, I suppose’.

xxx

‘Only ten books?!’, Crowley was affronted, ‘What does it even mean?!’

‘It means each person has a limit of ten books, sir’, the guy at the front desk repeated himself, patiently.

‘Look at these!’, Crowley picked one of the books in the huge piles he and Bobby had brought from the basement, ‘Why keep these paperback stupidities in here?!’

‘What is the problem with paperbacks, sir? Many people enjoy them’.

‘There are millions of these thin and easy readings in here. Why can’t we take as many as we want?’

‘Exactly because they are quicker to read, people can take _so many_ ’, the guy smiled.

‘Why not all? What difference will it make?!’

‘If it helps, sir, you both are invited to occupy one of our desks and sofas and start your reading here’, the man offered, truly thinking he was being helpful, ‘This way, you don’t have to take home the first volumes and can advance quicker in the series’.

Crowley opened his arms and was ready to say how much staying there was not an option _at all_ when Bobby rested a hand on his chest.

The unexpected contact ( _why not the shoulder?!_ ) made him refrain from further ranting immediately.

Bobby took Crowley’s place, closer to the desk, and spoke to the librarian, ‘We two can have twenty books, right?’

‘Right’.

‘But you see…’, Bobby made his best _follow my reasoning, here_ face, ‘We’ve been looking for these books like mad men. And they’re divided in seasons’, he picked two books from the pile to show, ‘Here you have 1.22, then the next – 2.1’.

‘I see your point’, the man said, ‘If you could take 22 books with you, you would have a complete season’.

‘Exactly’.

The librarian nodded slowly, pondering.

Then said, ‘All right’.

xxx

‘ _All right_ ’, Crowley angrily mocked the librarian while he handed his pile of books for Bobby to put them in the truck, ‘I can’t believe it’.

‘I thought you had got how to deal with Heaven’.

‘I thought I had, too. But it never occurred to me that rules could be broken just because a gentle bear with a soothing voice wanted it to happen’.

‘It was a reasonable asking…’, Bobby finished with the books and turned to Crowley, face scrunched, ‘Bear?’

‘Big masculine hairy man’, Crowley explained as if it should be obvious, still distracted by his annoyance.

‘I see’, Bobby gave a small smile that his companion didn’t see, ‘Maybe it is for the better. You said it may not be an easy reading, with all the pain and sorrow and being described by God’.

Crowley still had his face in a scowl and fists clenched.

Bobby waited.

Crowley closed his eyes and moved his head to a side to the other to deal with the tension in his shoulders.

He relaxed his hands, opened his arms and relented, ‘Let’s get to the next station, love’.

xxx

Next station was the grocery store.

The plan was to get anything that could be useful while reading.

(Ice cream, among other favorites).

Once there was not money in Heaven, they just wandered through the corridors picking whatever gained their fancy.

However, at some point Crowley was pointedly looking around for something, and Bobby called him out, ‘I know the place, you know. What do you want?’

‘Herbs’.

‘You’re not thinking of turning the house into a coven, are you?’

‘I doubt you have a cauldron big enough for me’.

‘Once a prick, always a prick’, Bobby indicated a corridor, ‘Come on’.

‘Don’t worry, love, I have no intentions of trying any witchery here’, Crowley assured, ‘I want tea and seasoning’.

‘Right’.

‘Even if I was quite good, I don’t think magic would go unnoticed in Heaven. Maybe it wouldn’t even work out’.

They entered a new corridor, ‘You were a demon _and_ a witch?’

‘My mother was a very powerful witch. She taught me some things before she-Ah! Here it is’.

Crowley started exploring the spices, delighted by the variety.

Bobby picked some to inspect, too, ‘You’re into cooking?’

‘You astound me with your utter lack of a sense of opportunity, Robert.

‘How so?’

‘We can have everything, in Heaven. We can cook any dish we always wanted to try: it is enough to get the ingredients and do it – the outcome is always right’, he chose some small packages and turned to put them in the shopping cart, ready to ask Bobby if he had never even thought of preparing some sushi himself…

But he lost the ability to speak.

Bobby was, for some reason, taking off his coat.

His chest expanded with the movement of pulling the coat behind to get it from his arms.

His shoulders moved to shake it off.

His waist made the subtle movement necessary for him get completely out of the coat and fold it.

Crowley gulped down.

Bobby put the coat on the cart.

Why was he putting the coat on their things? Why wasn’t he holding it in one arm, like any common human?

Oh, yes. Because he wanted his hands free to fold his sleeves.

Crowley felt his body getting warm in uncomfortable places.

The sight of those hands and forearms always got him off-balance. 

Bobby was definitively not the frail man from the first day – he had the upper body of the strong hunter Crowley had met a long time ago.

That elegant white shirt made the man a lot _beefier_ than a poor former demon could deal without short-circuiting.

‘I get what you’re saying’, Bobby spoke, not noticing the attention he was getting, ‘I’m still in the shabby hunter mind frame. Don’t really know why’.

Crowley made the necessary effort to get his eyes up to Bobby’s face.

What he saw there didn’t help with his predicament.

The weight of hopelessness that had haunted Bobby was gone. His eyes were filled with intent towards the shelves, his mouth half opened in deep thinking, his shoulders straight.

It was such a nice change to see!

It made Crowley warm not just in general – and where his bath suit goes –, but pointedly in the place where his heart would be if he was not just a soul pretending to have a body.

Bobby licked his lower lip and bit it, completely focused on his own thoughts.

Crowley still remembered the feeling of that tongue against his.

He remembered so much from that sole kiss…

Bobby looked at him, suddenly, ‘You think it’s a problem?’

Crowley blinked, surprised.

For a moment he was at a loss, but he soon remembered what they had been talking about, ‘That you stayed living like the secluded and packrat-style hunter even when Heaven offered you so much more?’

‘Yeah’.

‘Well, in New York I tried behaving as something I very unimaginatively called _Full-Crowley_ , and it didn’t work, either’.

‘You mean the orgy you told me about’.

‘Yes’, Crowley confirmed, ‘I’m not judging you’.

‘I know’, Bobby smiled, ‘We understand each other’.

Crowley smiled back, moved, ‘We do’.

‘The more we learn how to deal with this existence, the more we can do of it’, Bobby pondered, ‘We have talked about it last night. The human soul is not about repeating patterns of behavior’.

‘And it seems like this new version of Heaven has acknowledged it’.

Bobby nodded, turned to the shelves and spoke with that amount of energy Crowley now recognized as a sign that the man was breaking free from whatever had held him back, ‘Which dishes you have in mind?’

Crowley was delighted, ‘Why, Robert. You’re going to suggest things or you intend to cook, too?’

‘You praised my seasoning. I suppose I should try’, Bobby smirked, ‘You may teach me some old Scot recipe. Always wanted to know if the stories about bloody meals made of goat guts were true’.

Crowley couldn’t resist the teasing, ‘You would go to such lengths to pamper me as presenting a dish that tasted like home?’

Bobby chuckled, ‘It’s going to be nice to have something to do besides saving your ass from misplaced identities’.

‘Thank you for caring about my ass, darling’.

‘You can count on me’, Bobby answered without missing a beat, ‘Take the cumin. I’ve got the oregano’.

xxx

They spent a lot of unaccountable time in that spot, discussing spices and dishes they knew, making plans for meals and sharing stories of places and restaurants they had visited on Earth.

The whole time, Crowley was relishing in Bobby’s interest for the subject of cooking. The former hunter was truly engaged in the conversation, enjoying talking to Crowley, and it was a huge step away from that _not completely aware_ disposition from before.

However, there was another thing raising Crowley’s spirits greatly.

He had seen Bobby asleep and close to his body, on the bed, in that morning; he had the man being handsome, throwing things and fussing with his hair at breakfast; he had a big palm resting on his chest for him to calm down in the library; he just had what felt like a striptease in front of the spices’ stand, once both were wearing less layers than ever, in each other’s presence.

Crowley had desired Robert in all those occasions but, still, he was able to keep a functional mind, carry a qualified conversation and think of Bobby as a whole being, not just an irresistible piece of meat.

He had been hoping, but for the first time Crowley really believed that what he was experiencing in Sioux Falls was completely different from his previous existence in New York.

It was an enormous relief.

Maybe he would finally have the chance to truly bond with someone.

Even if it happened just for a while, and was related solely to the investigation they had been working on, it would be worth it.

When it was over – and it would be over, he _knew_ –, these moments with someone as wonderful as Robert Singer would stay with him to be cherished.

It may not seem much, but it was more than anything Crowley ever had.


	6. Moving parts

First thing to do when Bobby and Crowley arrived from town was transporting the bags of food to the kitchen and the books to the reading desk.

Those should have been easy tasks.

However, that kitchen had never been used for something that demanded such a diversity of material, and that desk had never been properly cleared of piles of forgotten books.

Those circumstances put them in the paradoxical situation of having easy tasks to do that were impossible to begin.

xxx

They were standing at the big double doors between kitchen and living room in their preferred _this doesn’t set well for me_ poses: Crowley with his hands on the pockets of his pants and Bobby with arms crossed.

The sight of bags spread on the kitchen table spoke of disarray.

The books slowly sliding from their precarious places on the sofa unnerved them.

Crowley scrunched his nose, ‘I guess you are eager to start your reading’.

‘I should’.

‘We should begin clearing your desk to have a decent place to put the books, then’.

‘That would be good. I’d prefer to read there’, Bobby scratched his nape, ‘And making smaller piles helps to track my progression’.

‘Good thinking, love’, Crowley clapped his hands, ‘Let’s start working on it, then’.

xxx

Bobby had no idea why those particular books had been piled on the desk. He didn’t remember doing it, didn’t remember reading them recently, and couldn’t find any link among them, in fact.

That was a new sign of how bad his disinterest for his surroundings had become.

However, the moment Crowley looked around for any shelves empty enough to receive the volumes, Bobby stopped him to explain his filing method.

The criteria were very complex.

(It made sense, in fact, if you think Bobby had everything from Bibles, demonology manuals and some hard to classify volumes with human skin for covers.)

The fact he was back to caring for organization was a wonderful sign, even if the method was so complicated that, if it was followed right then, would halt their advances.

They reached a compromise: in the near future, Bobby would share all about his filing methods with Crowley, but for the moment a singular shelf would be used for those mysteriously selected books.

(It required a great amount of creative thinking and physical strength to squeeze more matter than a single space should have, and some dangerously piled volumes, but they managed.)

xxx

‘Satisfied?’, Crowley asked when the desk had just the Supernatural series in four piles of five books and one of three, against the wall.

‘Very much’, Bobby occupied the chair and put his forearms on the desk, ‘Have forgotten how nice it is not to have garbage on this’.

‘I suspect you’re referring to the computer’.

Bobby just grinned.

‘Really, Robert: I would have never guessed putting a machine inside a closet that has mostly junk would make you so happy’.

‘You enjoyed it, too’.

‘Yes, I did’, Crowley sat at the edge of the desk, smirking, ‘As you elegantly put it in the occasion: _Angels can eat it_ ’.

They exchanged proud looks over that.

Bobby was very content.

Crowley loved seeing it.

‘Well’, Bobby got up from the chair, ‘Let’s move to the kitchen’.

‘No’, Crowley raised his hands for the other man to stop, ‘I’ll take care of that’.

He threw a quick look at the books on the desk, then at the double doors, ‘Sure?’

‘We started by the desk for you to get stared here as soon as possible. It makes no sense to involve you in another task’, he shrugged, ‘Besides, it’s something to do while you read’.

‘I suppose organizing things is what you like to do, anyway’.

‘I have a feeling I’ll love every moment of it’.

‘Right, then’, Bobby sat again, ‘Have fun’.

‘Thank you, darling’, Crowley took a look at the double doors and turned to Bobby again, ‘How much freedom do I have to propose changes?’

‘What do you have in mind?’

‘Well, I intend to clean cabinets, but I suspect it may not be enough. What if I find out the space could use a bit of rearranging?’

‘Let’s make sure I won’t get lost in my own kitchen’, Bobby warned, ‘You make your plans and we’ll discuss them’.

‘It’s fair’, Crowley nodded.

Bobby nodded back and waited, because Crowley hadn’t got off the desk and was contemplating the double doors again, what meant there were more questions to come.

‘What about the china? Is everything sacred or is there any chance to open spots throwing away the most horrendous plates and bowls?’

‘To say the truth, I don’t know exactly what I have, here…’, Bobby passed a hand through his hair, ‘I always use the same things’.

‘Karen’s things are with her?’

‘Yeah. Most of her things were with her when I arrived’.

Crowley hesitated, then added, ‘I don’t know which relationship you had with your mother, but I’ve known that mothers leave their china to their sons, so…’

‘Yeah, the oldest things may be of-Hey - _Your_ mother!’

‘Pardon?’, Crowley was confused by the sudden change in subject, ‘Is that an attempt to offend me?’

‘Of course not, _idjit_. What am I? Some school kid?’

‘They say there is a 5th grader inside every man…’

Bobby rolled his eyes, ‘I just remembered you were going to say something about your mother at the grocery’s’.

‘I was?’

‘At the herbs and spices. You said she taught you magic before _something_ , and then you got distracted and didn’t go on’.

‘Oh’, Crowley sighed, ‘Before she left’.

Bobby frowned, ‘How old were you?’

‘I was around ten, I think’, Crowley crossed his arms, his mood changing, ‘Very close to the age you… _lost_ your father’.

‘Is it… in the books?’

‘My story or that part of yours?’

‘Both’.

‘There is not much on my life as Fergus than what you already know. Chuck once said we McLeods were his _guilty pleasure_ , but it seems he meant the glimpses of our disgraces, not a whole and detailed arch of our lives’.

‘Damn…’, Bobby furrowed his brow, ‘That Chuck sounds more and more like a villain’.

Crowley nodded, ‘And about the thing with your father…’, he gulped down, aware of how bad were the news he was about to deliver, ‘There is a whole book dedicated to your… passage. Including your worst memories’.

Bobby closed his eyes.

‘I told you the reading was not going to be easy’.

Bobby nodded and opened his eyes, ‘It’s just hard finding out he exposed us as if we our lives didn’t matter but as entertainment’.

‘I understand and can empathize’.

Bobby grunted in agreement.

‘There are some things about me… Very personal things. Embarrassing things. However…’, Crowley clenched his jaw, ‘Those are not the things that worry me, now’.

‘What, then?’

‘You’ll have access to everything I did as a demon, after you died’, Crowley looked away, ‘I confess the thought of you finding out all of it makes me think you are going to throw me off here’.

‘I get why you’d think that’, Bobby rested a hand on Crowley’s knee, ‘But it would be dishonest if I judged you by the things you did when you didn’t have a soul’.

‘Why?’, Crowley asked, nervously, ‘It was me’.

‘But not the _you_ that you are now’, he patted the knee, ‘ _This_ is the result of everything you went through: Fergus as a human being, Fergus in the ten years of the contract, Crowley in the racks, Crowley as a demon, Crowley after the incomplete cure, Crowley with a reformed soul who took a leap of faith and reached out to me’, Bobby smiled, ‘Crowley who just decided it was worth spending his time setting up my kitchen’.

Crowley felt his eyes wet, ‘I appreciate you saying this more than I can express through words’.

‘Then do something else’.

‘Pardon?’

‘Open up’, Bobby gestured to the crossed arms, ‘It helps’.

‘Oh’.

Crowley was surprised.

He had been usually very conscious of his body. He had used it to impose authority and frighten adversaries.

(And, of course, for sexual innuendo.)

But now, in Heaven, with a soul that provided emotions, he was expressing his fear and his discomfort physically shielding himself, crossing his arms over his chest in a body language that spoke of still needing to keep his reserve.

Well, he had reached out for Robert Singer. It made no sense in trying to block the way.

So, he made the conscious decision of uncrossing his arms.

One of his arms dangled awkwardly by his side; the other hovered and hesitated for a bit until he decided to rest it on the desk, besides his knee.

(The knee that was deliciously warm from the weight of Bobby’s hand, by the way.)

‘Not easy to let go, uh?’

‘No, not easy at all’, Crowley breathed deeply, ‘But I have to make concessions, if I want any chance of getting rid of your horrid china’.

‘Hold your horses. I’m still not sure of that. What I’m sure…’, Bobby lifted his hand from the knee and rested it on Crowley’s, on the desk, ‘… is that we stick together’.

Crowley had to breathe deeply again, new tears forming, ‘Wow’.

Bobby’s fingers moved to hold the hand in his, ‘Is this too much?’

‘I can cope with hand holding, Robert’, he dried his eyes with his free hand, ‘I mean, I think so’.

He dared a look at Bobby’s face.

The man was offering the sweetest smile ever.

Crowley didn’t know what to do of the emotions.

So, he teased, ‘Tell me, pet: were you always touchy-touchy like this?’

‘I was not raised to be, but I learned with Karen that reaching out matters’, Bobby’s eyes went to the joined hands, ‘Sometimes words don’t cover things’.

‘Is that a jab at my taste for written contracts?’

‘Maybe’, Bobby scrunched his nose, ‘But it doesn’t have the same effect now that you agree with me’.

Crowley flexed his free hand on his lap, nervously opening and closing it, ‘I suppose it doesn’t’.

‘Will you just relax for a moment?’

Crowley grunted, both hands in fists, now.

‘I get it’, Bobby said, patted the hand under his and let go, ‘Let’s do our things’.

Crowley immediately got off the table.

They stared at each other.

‘Robert, I’m-’

‘You better not saying you’re sorry’.

‘In fact, I was going to’.

‘You didn’t demand I changed things in the house. You’ve been patient, and helpful. I owe you the same’.

‘You don’t owe me anything. You are already helping me’.

‘It’s not a sacrifice’.

‘I didn’t say it was’.

‘Then stop being stupid. I said we stick together, and I mean it’, Bobby leaned forward and growled, ‘Do you hear me?’

Crowley gulped down.

That was supposed to be intimidating, maybe reassuring in a blunt way.

He didn’t suppose it was intended as _arousing._

Bobby must have noticed the change in mood, for he straightened his back again and fussed with his shirt, ‘Let’s get it on, Princess. We can do it’.

xxx

Crowley entered the kitchen still feeling like someone had grabbed his soul and twisted it.

He had been so quick to notice Bobby’s difficulties to take control of his own existence, and hadn’t realized how recoiled in his own self-defensive strategies he still was.

It was not just about crossing his arms when a difficult topic was brought up – it was about joking to divert the situation and getting bothered when any slightly emotional subject was brought up.

It was fortunate he had someone as open to change and self-growth as Bobby to help him with it.

As long as he could not melt every time the man held his hand, they would be all right.

xxx

Bobby had been right. Planning a place in order to mold it to his vision of efficiency made Crowley vibrate with energy and joy.

When compared to his initiatives in Hell, the advantages of Heaven were obvious: no stupid demons, no back-stabbing, no narrow-minded Lucifer loyalists for him to deal with. Here, whatever he envisioned could be achieved through method and organization.

If paradise existed, this was his.

xxx

Crowley started separating the items from the grocery store in _Food that goes to fridge_ and _Food that goes whatever_ , then proceeded to put away the fridge things, what already freed a good part of the table.

Then, he emptied one cabinet and cupboard at a time, cleaned it, washed every piece of cutlery and china, dried the items and deposited them safely on the table.

Soon he decided all he needed were three groups of objects: _Pretty and/or Useful_ , _Hideous but Useful_ and _God, why?_.

He barely could wait to discuss every item with Bobby.

xxx

Crowley realized, during the process, that many of the objects in that kitchen must have a history he was not aware of.

Their existence may be associated to a memory, or be heirloom. Even if the Singer’s family life had not been the most loving, and even if Karen was gone, it was possible that Bobby wanted to keep those things.

He wondered if it was the case to propose a new spot – a place to put such objects and keep them safe. He wondered if a pretty cupboard would be suitable to that end, and if it was a good idea at all to have such things around when one was moving on with his existence…

(Well, he guessed Bobby was moving on. He couldn’t be sure of it. Maybe the man was just acting like that while he had a guest who appreciated it.)

Crowley looked at the common pint glasses on the table.

Simple, plain and clear-cut.

Pretty in their way.

He picked one to look at it closer.

He didn’t remember ever using one of those.

He was raised with metal, sometimes ceramic mugs; when he was back to Earth again, porcelain was on fashion. Lilith’s adventures equaled pleasure to expensive things, and he assumed wearing silk ties and tailored suits, drinking rare Scotch in rich glasses and buying huge mansions was the way to go.

Crowley wondered if any of his places existed in Heaven and, if so, if the original owners lived in them, happy to not have a demon getting their property – through indecent money offers, harassment or violence. 

No, he didn’t have any hurry to leave the house where he was currently existing. The company was too good and the owner was agreeing to make it a more suitable place for living. However, he couldn’t help but wonder if he had some place to go when their investigation was over and he was told it was his time to leave.

Crowley put the pint back on the table.

That line of thought had made him sad.

He couldn’t see himself living in any place but this house in Sioux Falls and any existence but this one with Robert Singer.

In an attempt to just cross that bridge when he came to it, he stretched his arms and back, closed his eyes and moved his shoulders to relax them.

When he opened his eyes, they fell on the window, and he frowned.

Even covered with the dirty curtain, it should be showing some light. They had visited the library and spent some time in the grocery store, before coming home. No way it was night.

He approached enough to lift the cloth.

Yes, it was night.

Damn Heaven and its absence of time!

Crowley looked back at the table and decided that, if he was going to check on Bobby after selfishly leaving the man by himself for so long, he better soften the blow with an offering.

xxx

‘Robert?’, Crowley gave a warning call, then entered the living room, ‘I think it’s time for a break’.

‘Just finished the last book’.

Crowley halted, ‘What?’

‘Didn’t realize until it was over’, Bobby lifted his head from the hand who had been covering it, put a closed book on one of the piles and turned to Crowley.

It was a moment of surprise for both.

For Bobby, because Crowley had what looked like a glass of milk in one hand and a mug of what he supposed was tea in the other.

For Crowley, because Bobby’s eyes were red from crying.

Bobby recovered first, ‘That’s for me?’

‘Yes, it is’, Crowley went into motion, handing the milk, ‘I’ve warmed it. I hope Heaven helped me and it is of your taste’.

Bobby sipped, ‘Perfect’, he peeped at Crowley’s mug, ‘Tea?’

‘Yes. I guessed we both would need our comfort drinks’, he sat at the desk on the spot he had been before, ‘Sorry to not have come to check on you earlier. I got lost in my task’.

‘Same here’, Bobby spoke with a sad smile, then showed the glass in his hand, ‘Is this in the books, too?’

‘Uhum’.

‘I’m feeling at a disadvantage, here. When do you come over?’

Crowley smiled, ‘Season 5’.

‘Damn’.

They sipped their beverages.

‘Talk to me, love. What did you think of yourself in season 1?’

‘I sound like an old drunk trying to be funny’.

‘It gets better’.

‘There was not much of me’.

‘That was one of the reasons why I’m saying it gets better’.

Bobby scoffed.

‘Chuck is very good with introductions, but I must agree that for your character it not the best’, he smirked, ‘It’s almost like he knew you would do such a good job with the Winchesters that they would turn out to be unpredictable and complicate the whole plot’.

Bobby leaned his head, acknowledging the possibility, and sipped at his milk.

His shoulders relaxed at the warmth.

Crowley relaxed at the sight, ‘I promise you: your portrait gets a lot better. The more we know you, the more we love you’.

Bobby smiled, ‘Idjit’.

Crowley sighed.

The man didn’t have the right to be so adorable.

‘So…’, Crowley drank some tea to get around the sudden knot in his throat, ‘Anything else you want to share?’

‘It’s hard to see the boys going through all that’.

‘I guessed you would feel the blunt. And John doesn’t help us like him, either’.

‘I understand what he was going through, but… Yeah. He doesn’t make it easy’.

Crowley nodded and waited for Bobby to elaborate on that.

‘There were times I almost said things to his face. About the boys. About getting them in the life, specially Dean. But I always decided not to. I was afraid he would take them away… And there was already too much pain going on’.

‘Why start a fight when you could just take Dean to play baseball instead of learning to shoot?’

‘Really, Crowley?’, Bobby grunted with no real heat, ‘Showing off?’

Crowley shrugged, smiling, ‘Reading is fundamental’.

They drank in silence for some time.

Bobby’s mood was getting visibly better.

He sat back on the chair and made a gesture for the kitchen, ‘How are things, there?’

‘Not quite ready’, Crowley made a face, then gave an all-teeth grin, ‘But I loved every moment’.

‘Good’, Bobby nodded, ‘Will I recognize the place?’

‘You offend me, Robert. Our deal was that I wouldn’t change anything without consulting with you’.

Bobby raised a brow at that but didn’t pursue the point, ‘It means everything is in the same place and you have a bazillion plans or everything is out of place and you have a bazillion plans?’

‘The second option’.

‘Uhm’, Bobby tapped the desk and got up, ‘Let’s take a look’.

xxx

After taking a look, there was no doubt the kitchen didn’t need new cupboards (some china had no place there) but needed, urgently, more countertops if they wanted it to become practical for their cooking plans.

Bobby was moved that Crowley thought he would like to preserve objects that reminded him of his family, but the truth was that his stronger memory of his mother still was her saying that God would punish him for what he did to his father. He didn’t feel like having around things that had belonged to her.

Crowley understood that completely, and he didn’t need to say anything more about his own mother, right then – what he had told earlier was enough for Bobby to get the right idea about their relationship.

The rest of it would be in the books, anyway.

They agreed to go to town again the next day for the library and some place to get countertops, so they could get on with both projects.

And, when Bobby said _‘We’ve had enough for today. Let’s go to bed’_ , Crowley happily tagged along.

xxx

Eating, in Heaven, was about habit and pleasure, once no one had physical needs.

(Toilets didn’t exist, by the way. Whatever was consumed, magically went away.)

So, next morning Bobby and Crowley woke up, dressed and hit the road as soon as possible, dismissing breakfast in the out of order kitchen.

xxx

First they stopped at the library to pick the 22 books of season 2 of Supernatural.

The idea was to get the books and get out, but Bobby mentioned that, if they didn’t intend to use the computer, they better have some recipes at hand for their culinary adventures.

xxx

The library had a surprising comprehensive collection of cooking books.

However, with the season 2 of the Supernatural series they had already reached the limit of volumes they could take with them.

(Plus 2, in fact.

There were 22 books, again.)

Well, it was Heaven. So, in a rare twist of luck, there was a bunch of culinary magazines just donated that could be freely taken.

xxx

All the research and conversation about food made them gladly stop for lunch in a very nice Indian joint.

And then they had to get back to the library to read on Indian food, because they had forgot completely how incredible it was and they _had_ to know more, right then and there.

xxx

Getting furniture for the kitchen proved to be less of a matter of _choosing_ and more of a matter of _surveying_ , _lifting_ and _carrying_.

They agreed on the kind of things they needed and had a good idea of the space they would occupy in the kitchen, but the whole process made obvious that they were not exactly prepared for manual labor, because none of them had _the clothes_ for it. 

So, in order to get the needed garments that fitted the task of moving things around, they went to the biggest clothing store in town.

xxx

When they entered, a good look around left both satisfied: the place had _variety_ – exactly what they needed to explore, being both so resistant to try anything new.

Crowley approached the closest racks, hesitantly touching the textures of some polo shirts.

Bobby put a hand on the small of his back, ‘I’m afraid you’re lost, Sir. The long sleeved black garments are not here’.

Crowley smiled at the joke and the warm touch, ‘I said I could compromise’, he made a face at the green shirt, ‘I just have no idea what to look for’.

‘For starters, you’ll look good in anything. That’s not the point’, Bobby handed him two big bags the place offered, ‘Let’s pick things a bit out of our comfort zones and see what happens. We may find out it’s not so hard’.

Crowley accepted the bag, ‘Feeling adventurous, love?’

‘You bet I am’, Bobby didn’t give a second glance to that rack. He raised to his full height to survey the whole place, ‘May I give you a suggestion?’

‘To all means’.

‘I think you should stick to black, if you don’t feel ready for anything else. It’s ok to start small’, Bobby turned to Crowley, ‘But you only have fancy and delicate things that look like they will melt if they ever touch sweat’.

‘So… Still black, but not silk or high-couture?’

‘Yeah. Go to… I don’t know… Cotton, jeans, sweatshirt…’

‘Good God…’

‘Don’t call for it. We don’t know who it is’.

‘Sorry’, Crowley breathed deeply, ‘Anything else?’

‘Yeah’, Bobby spoke like a coach, slowly but firmly, ‘Pick what you like and some things you wouldn’t be caught dead in – simple jackets, t-shirts, hoodies. You don’t have to show them to me. Just permit yourself to wear them and look in the mirror’.

‘I hear you’, Crowley nodded seriously.

‘Great’.

‘And what about you?’, he gave Bobby the once-over, ‘What is out of your comfort zone?’

‘New clothes’.

‘Well’, Crowley grinned cheekly, ‘You’re not wrong’.

‘Let’s part and meet in the fitting rooms. I want you to help me choose. After all, you’ll be the one looking at my mug all the time’.

‘I don’t think there is a problem with your mug, darling, but I agree with the general point of your argument’.

‘Any advice for me? You must know about fashion’.

‘Don’t be modest. I bet you have read a lot about it when no one was around’.

Bobby squinted, ‘Other thing from the books?’

‘It was more of a hunch, but nice of you not to deny’, Crowley shrugged, ‘I guess you should get some new t-shirts, invest in warm clothes that are not flannel and, surely, some comfortable-looking jeans, if you keep enjoying them so much’.

‘I get it’, Bobby nodded.

‘You should wear something that will make you feel like you own any room you enter, Robert. You are a big man with expressive eyes and a sharp mind. Your clothes must let it come out and shine’.

‘That was nice’, Bobby smiled softly, ‘Thank you’.

Crowley looked away, suddenly embarrassed, ‘It’s true’.

‘May I say another thing before we go?’

‘Go on, darling’.

Bobby gave a step closer and looked into Crowley’s eyes, ‘You don’t have to hide in your clothes, anymore’.

Crowley got confused, ‘I don’t think I follow’.

‘When you were a demon, you had to protect yourself and your position. The black suits were all business, not a hint of your history. They spoke of class and power, not of a personality’.

‘It was like that in Scotland, too’.

‘How so?’

‘I spent my childhood and most of my youth in rags. We were already poor, and then my mother left, and I ended up in the streets’, he frowned, ‘Working as a tailor gave me access to decent fabric for the first time. It was a whole new universe - I found out I could change the way people looked at me’.

Bobby waited, in silence.

‘But I had to be careful. Any flamboyance was dangerous. Any new idea was dangerous, in fact. It was a very conservative and traditional village, and I was the bastard son of the witch who had ran away many years ago…’

‘That is over’, Bobby put his hands on Crowley’s arms to face him, ‘You can wear anything that makes you feel good about yourself. I want to see you strutting around the house and the yard as if you owned _yourself_. Because now you do.

Crowley nodded, ‘I’ll try to keep that in mind’.

xxx

Obviously, even if they went to completely different parts of the store, proceeded in different rhythms and picked a different number of pieces, they arrived together at the fitting rooms.

They chose two that were in front of one another, to make it easier to share their choices.

xxx

Bobby’s first outfits were not out of the ordinary for him, and Crowley approved of all of them: some t-shirts, a few shirts in clear solid colors and two pairs of jeans.

Crowley’s first outfits had Bobby applauding him: black and gray short-sleeved t-shirts and dark jeans.

xxx

Next round was a bit bolder.

Bobby exhibited one hoodie and one pair of pants made of the same fabric, while Crowley proudly wore something along the same lines, but in a finer anti-sweat fabric, because he was still _Crowley_ , after all.

(And he had chosen some sneakers. That was a revolution.)

‘I have a bonus’, Bobby announced, pointing at his own fitting room.

‘Great minds think alike, dear’.

xxx

Crowley looked at himself in the mirror.

He was wearing a black t-shirt under a black leather jacket, and black jeans.

His usual color, but in different fabrics.

He was pretty confident about that.

However, he had a scarf in black and white tastefully arranged around his neck. It had some fringes and was big enough to reach the middle of his chest.

He was pretty nervous about it.

Of course, it was just an accessory with a hint of white in it; it was like when he adopted a silver tie to add a point of opposite color to his all-black outfits. However, now he felt like he had, for the first time in centuries, chosen something to wear that was not about dignity or power – it was about being pretty.

He liked looking like that. He wanted to wear something that didn’t scream _Fear and respect me!_ , but it made him unexpectedly insecure about his appearance. 

‘Hey’, Bobby called from the other side of the closed door, ‘Ready?’

_Not sure._

‘Yes’.

He opened the door.

Bobby looked at Crowley from head to feet, his face in that comical and cute expression of shock – eyes large, jaw fallen.

‘Man…’, he spoke, when he was able to, ‘You’re handsome!’, he got closer to touch the jacket and hold the scarf in his fingertips, ‘This is great!’

Crowley didn’t know what to say.

The praising warmed him, but he was having trouble processing Bobby’s outfit.

For some reason, the man had decided to wear shorts and a _sleeveless t-shirt_.

‘Now I feel embarrassed’, Bobby said, looking down at himself, ‘You’re always mocking my layers, and you spoke of your calves...’, he made a face, ‘I wanted to surprise you with less fabric, but…’, he gestured at Crowley in admiration, ‘Look at you!’

‘Robert…’

‘Yeah?’

‘You look incredible’.

‘You’re being nice’.

‘I’m not nice-Oh, well, I am. But it’s not the case. Believe me. You are stunning’.

‘Right…’

‘Never, ever be embarrassed about your body or your appearance’, Crowley conveyed all the sincerity he could, ‘When I said you were a bear, I meant it in the best way possible – big, strong, handsome…’

He forced himself to stop talking, because he had no idea what his next words would be, and he feared they could be something along the lines of _Everything I ever wanted_.

‘Is it a type you…’, Bobby looked down for a moment, the tips of his ears reddening, ‘…like?’

‘Yes!’, Crowley realized his eagerness and cleared his throat, ‘Yes. It’s a favorite’.

Bobby nodded.

Their eyes locked.

Never comfortable with intense silences, Crowley blurted out, ‘I’ll pick some shorts’.

‘Just if it’s ok with you’.

‘It will never be if I don’t start’, he leaned his head, ‘Besides, advertising my calves and never showing them is a very _all bark and no bite_ thing, and that is not acceptable’.

‘Ok, then’.

Bobby spoke and lifted a hand to play with the collar of Crowley’s jacket.

His knuckles brushed Crowley’s neck, making him shiver. 

Again not able to bear the tension, Crowley teased, ‘I hope you won’t think less of me because I’ll show so much flesh’.

‘That would not make sense…’, Bobby took a step behind, giving Crowley some space, ‘…when I’m dressed like this’.

Bobby was grinning.

Crowley supported himself on the door of the fitting room.

‘Let me get one of these for you’, Bobby offered, meaning his own shorts, ‘I know where they are and Heaven is going to make sure I get the right size’.

‘Make it so’, Crowley agreed, ‘And, once you’re there, get short pajamas for me, too’.

‘Are you serious?’

_Yes, even if I have no idea why I said it._

‘Absolutely. Any pattern you choose, darling’.

Bobby nodded with another radiant grin and headed for the main area.

Crowley closed the door behind him to take off his current clothes.

He started with the scarf.

His hands were trembling.

He didn’t have any idea of what was going on, anymore.

He had always been the one flirting and throwing innuendo around. He mostly did it to make people uncomfortable. For real and no-risk-of-stabbing sex he had his sources and routines.

Now it looked like Bobby was flirting with him, and he didn’t know what to do of it.

Crowley closed his eyes and wished for a clear mind.

Of course Bobby was not flirting. Why would he do it? Why a former hunter with a lifetime of loyalty and generosity would want to get involved with a demon?

That was it, Crowley decided – he was reading the situation wrong.

All the attention and touches and supporting words could imply sexual interest in another context, with another person, but coming from Bobby and directed at him, Crowley, they surely were the man’s nice fatherly persona making its appearance. After all, Crowley had knocked on his door (not literally) desperate for help, and Bobby was doing what Bobby Singer did best: going out of his way to take care of people who were going through rough patches.

Crowley opened his eyes, sighed, put the scarf in the bag, started taking off the leather jacket.

Now he understood that the encounter with Juliet had served to prepare him, as soon as possible, to the fact that in Heaven you meet beings that help you to heal, but that you need to let go for things to happen.

If his start in that place was any indication, Crowley was not a presence that healed others. His time with Phillip had been a disaster.

It meant he was the one that needed healing, and now he was messing with Bobby’s existence, demanding attention and occupying the good man’s time and space.

A generous man like Robert Singer would act in his instincts and do whatever was into his reach and abilities to help the only former demon around – a creature who had no one else to resort to in order to find his place.

Crowley realized he had been clutching at the coat.

He needed to learn to let go. It was too late to give up and go away, too late to take the burden of caring for him from Bobby’s shoulders. The only way through this was cooperating and doing his best to make their time together smoother.

Crowley just wished he didn’t mess up too much before this ended.


	7. The consequences of falling

Bobby and Crowley threw themselves enthusiastically into the task of reforming the kitchen.

They had been so eager to do so, in fact, that they left town already wearing appropriate garments: Bobby chose a deep red t-shirt and sports pants, while Crowley threw caution to the wind and decided a black t-shirt and _shorts_ were the best options to work in the new kitchen.

xxx

Crowley didn’t remember seeing Bobby so enthusiastic.

The man grinned for the whole time they worked together.

There were jokes about Crowley’s athletic calves.

There were funny stories about hunts.

He taught Crowley how to disassemble and assemble furniture and how to use some tools.

In return, Crowley caught himself telling the less miserable things he remembered of his time in Scotland, especially episodes regarding his talents as a tailor and how it got him out of the streets.

The shared experiences seemed to make Bobby brighten even more, and Crowley found fascinating that someone could be so happy for the sake of other people.

Because, yes, they were redoing a part of the man’s house, and Bobby visibly enjoyed manual crafts; however, he had been living there before, without all that. Getting countertops and cooking elaborate meals had not been essential parts of his existence – in fact, he hadn’t even noticed their absence until Crowley pointed it out.

Thus, Bobby’s good disposition must be for Crowley’s sake – to make sure he got out of his shell and healed from old scars in the small breaks from their investigation, through domestic tasks and the past stories.

It was a lovely sentiment to care for someone to the point of getting so out of your way to help.

Crowley had done it for the Winchesters. For Dean, specifically, when he still hoped the guy could see him as a brother.

(Thinking in retrospect, that had been delusional. The Winchesters were a very tight-knotted bunch. Not even Castiel had managed to break in completely, and he had _rescued Dean from bloody Hell_. If an angel had a hard time, a demon had no chance at all.)

It occurred to Crowley that he had gone out of his way for his mother, too, in a time when the blood in his system woke up the hope that they could mend things.

He had wanted answers from her. He had believed those answers would fulfill the larger-than-life empty space in his heart.

However, every thing she chose to tell just hurt him more.

‘Hey’, Bobby’s voice broke into his thoughts, ‘What’s the matter?’

Crowley forced a nonchalant attitude, ‘What makes you think there is a matter?’

‘I asked for a screwdriver three times’.

‘I must have heard _screw_ and got nervous’.

‘Hand me the damn thing and tell me what really got you nervous’.

‘Invasive thoughts’, Crowley picked the tool and gave it to Bobby, ‘Through some unexpected connections, I remembered old failures’.

‘Not with furniture, I guess’.

‘No’.

‘Wanna talk about it?’

‘Not really’, Crowley took the screwdriver back from Bobby when he was finished with it, ‘I was not nervous. I was sad. I don’t see how wallowing in old mud would help’.

‘Accepting that you’re covered in mud is the first step to get out of it’.

‘I don’t think you should pursue such inelegant metaphors’.

‘I don’t think you should keep things inside’.

‘I don’t think you should be wearing any clothes’.

‘What does it have to do with the subject?’

‘Oh, I’m sorry. I thought the game was _Stating things that are impossible_ ’.

‘It’s not impossible for me to be naked right now’, Bobby scowled, ‘It’s just not comfortable while doing this’.

‘As if you would be naked in front of me’.

‘Don’t try me’.

‘I don’t bend to obviously empty threats’.

Bobby stopped testing how firm the countertop already was, grabbed the bottom helm of his t-shirt and start pulling it up.

Crowley gave a startled step behind, ‘What are you doing?!’

‘Showing you I’m not kidding’, the t-shirt reached middle-chest, ‘And distracting you from stupid thoughts, once you won’t stop the denial’.

Crowley spoke hurriedly, while his coherent thought processes were still on, ‘I was sad because I was thinking of people with whom I expected to have some sort of bond and didn’t succeed’.

‘Oh’, Bobby lowered the t-shirt, realization dawning on him, ‘That makes a person sad’.

‘Yes’.

Bobby adjusted the t-shirt in place, ‘Not any luck, there?’

‘None’, Crowley cleared his throat, ‘Just disappointment’.

‘Sorry to poke’, Bobby went back to working on the countertop, ‘You’re talking about it when you decide to’.

‘You mean _if_ I decide to’.

‘You heard me’.

xxx

With the furniture in place, Bobby sat on his desk for the reading of Season 2 of _Supernatural_ , while Crowley stayed in the kitchen with the mission of finishing the new organization they had agreed on.

It involved finding the better spots for culinary utensils and cleaning after the whole assembly process they had done together.

Crowley knew how entertained he could be with those tasks and, even if it would be a good thing to let Bobby go through a season in one sitting again, he didn’t want to make the same mistake from the previous day.

So, in order to not leave the man to his own devices for some uncountable time, at every finished task – when the last mug was in its place, for example – Crowley approached the double doors discreetly to hear what was going on in the reading desk.

After detecting some _Balls!_ , _Damn!_ and _Those Ijdits!_ , but no things being thrown away, no sobbing and no violent thumps, he relaxed and gave up the obligatory checking.

xxx

The reading of Season 2 was perfectly timed with the last touch in the kitchen, and they reunited to put the china they had decided to discard in boxes, to be donated.

Everything ended up in someone’s grateful hands, in Heaven. People out there would be happy to get those things, for some reason.

(Well, they had cheered for old books of recipes left in the library. They were in no place to judge.)

xxx

They were standing by one of the new countertops, bowls of _wakisoba_ in hand, and Crowley was making a point between a mouthful and another, ‘And this is what I mean when I say their situation is precarious!’

Bobby raised a brow, ‘Getting a soul has softened you’.

‘How so, love?’

‘Angels are blind soldiers. The bastards would fall apart the moment they faced a paradox’.

‘What if they detect it but choose not to face it?’

‘ _Hypocritical_ bastards’.

‘And that just reinforces my argument’.

‘Go through it again for me’.

Crowley waved the _hashi_ in the air, excited, ‘Imagine that you are a stupid single-minded warrior of the Lord, and you are taught to hate and despise Lucifer because he disobeyed orders’, he waited for Bobby to nod, ‘The perfect Lord who created you and created humans, has now ordered _you_ to love these _humans_ , who disobey orders all the time, like Lucifer, but are hated by Lucifer, too’.

‘And this whole shebang started because Lucifer pointed out the contradiction of it’.

‘Exactly!’, the _hashi_ moved happily, ‘What would you do?’

‘I would flip off the bastard who thinks he can give stupid orders just because he could smite me with a thought’, Bobby shook his head, ‘I sounded like a Winchester, now, threatening powerful entities’.

‘Indeed’, Crowley smiled, lowering the _hashi_ to his bowl, ‘It’s not surprising: you are the man who shot a powerful demon in the first meeting’.

Bobby chuckled.

‘Funny fact’, Crowley commented, ‘Lucifer loyalists despised me because I was not a direct creation of their _legitimate_ king’, he scoffed, ‘What they didn’t realize was that, if the aforementioned king despised humans, he had no reason to be considerate to the common demon, that are not more than downgraded humans’.

‘So, angels are hypocritical condescending pricks and demons are stupid royalist pricks?’

‘Basically’.

‘Should have known’, Bobby sighed, ‘Humans are the meat in a prick sandwich’.

Crowley let out a heartfelt laugh at such an apt description.

He had already calmed down and was trying to get a piece of carrot with the _hashi_ when Bobby spoke again, ‘That’s a nice sound’.

Crowley looked around, confused, ‘What sound?’

‘You, laughing’.

‘Oh’, he shrugged, ‘I never guessed having these metaphysical chats would be so entertaining’.

‘If you’re not in danger to be stabbed, speculation on supernatural lore is nice’, Bobby made a pause, then resumed, ‘But I meant it’s good to see you loosen up’.

Crowley decided looking at the piece of meat he was trying to grab, instead of the elusive carrot, was better than facing Bobby, right then.

His suspicion that he was there to be healed had just been confirmed.

Therefore, his assumption was confirmed: he would be leaving as soon as that goal was accomplished.

Even if he had been building a case around it, collecting evidence and all, it hit him quite hard to have it stated so naturally.

He kept fighting for a better grasp of the _hashi_ , glad to have something else but the sudden sadness and disappointment to focus on.

Bobby put his own bowl on the countertop and approached.

‘Let me help’, he took Crowley’s hand in his to correct the position of his fingers, ‘There’, he said, ‘Try again’.

Crowley did so, and succeeded in picking the meat.

‘You didn’t do that much, did you?’

‘No’, Crowley had recovered enough to push aside the bad emotions and resume the conversation, even if still looking down for good measure, ‘I didn’t have much opportunity for this practice on Earth’.

‘Lucky you I’m here’, Bobby smiled, ‘You won’t need to stab your food around me, demon’.

Crowley rose his head, startled.

Bobby noticed, ‘Problem?’

‘Not exactly’, Crowley resumed maneuvering the _hashi_ , ‘It was just unexpected how you called me _demon_ without it sounding derogative’.

‘It’s part of what you are’.

Crowley nodded and looked down at the bowl again.

_Yes, it is part of what I am._

_That is exactly why I need you so much._

He breathed deeply.

_To heal me._

_I need you to heal me._

_Just that._

_And then I’ll be ready to leave._

‘I’ve been thinking’, Bobby had picked his own bowl again and was moving things inside it while he spoke, ‘We could clean the glass in the window and leave it without curtains’.

Crowley blinked back to reality and glanced at the window, ‘I was going to suggest we wash those, once we forgot to get new ones’.

‘I don’t see why we should. I don’t even remember these things in the house when I was alive. I could swear I just had blinds’.

Crowley leaned his head. That was what he remembered, too.

‘Besides, curtains are for privacy’, Bobby shrugged, ‘No one is going to spy on us’.

Crowley raised his brows at the wording.

It probably meant _We won’t do anything that requires privacy_ but, for some reason, it sounded like it could mean _There is no one to watch whatever we do_.

He was intrigued by the thought, but decided to let it go.

‘All right, pet’, he spoke, ‘Some light will do good to this kitchen’.

xxx

They threw away the curtains, cleaned the bowls, pans and _hashi_ while discussing Season 2.

Talking about the Supernatural series was not as difficult as it had been for Season 1, fortunately: Bobby was able to rationalize his reactions to the reading process, reminding himself that the narrative dealt with past events, that those painful things were long gone and that the only difference from then to now was that he was having access to more details and a new point of view.

Crowley and Bobby shared a deep disgust by the talented but cruel author, and an almost ridiculous fondness for the Winchesters (even John, as misguided as his actions ended up being).

xxx

After a long afternoon of leisurely chatting and sharing stories, Bobby proposed _movie night_ to add a new element to their routine.

Crowley was caught by surprise. He knew _movie nights_ were something Sam and Dean did, knew that Bobby had some strong happy memories of those and, even if he now knew he was being guided through a kind of healing process, he hadn’t expected to be invited to create a memory like that.

The prospect of ice cream under the duvets convinced him to not overthink the situation, and he agreed to participate.

xxx

They turned the lights off in the living room and went under the covers, occupying different extremes of the sofa in front of the TV.

‘The boys loved watching trash and bickering’, Bobby reminisced, jumping from a channel to other, ‘Dean loved a bad movie, and he knew Sam would bitch about it’.

‘A fun duo, those two’, Crowley ate a spoonful.

‘I miss those morons’, Bobby sighed, ‘The books brought back things I had forgotten’.

‘I understand what you are going through, love. The seasons were published a year after the facts, and to me it was always clarifying but disturbing to read the stories under a new light. I guess to you, after so much time, it must hit harder’.

Bobby stopped zapping for a moment, ‘You got close to them, didn’t you? Worked together and all’.

‘We got a bit closer, yes. Enough for me to get attached, but not as much as I would have liked’, Crowley made a face, ‘They never really trusted me’.

‘You get why, don’t you?’

‘Sure’, he scooped a new spoonful, ‘I told them myself to never trust anyone’.

‘Good job’.

‘Don’t get excited. It’s not like I was trying to pick up where you left’, Crowley smiled at Bobby, ‘You did a wonderful job. You raised two heroes’.

Bobby frowned, recognizing the phrase he had said to the memory of his father, and rolled his eyes, ‘Show off’.

‘I’ll use my superior knowledge while I can’.

Bobby smiled, amused, and resumed changing channels.

Crowley kept eating.

Bobby spoke again, serious, ‘I just wish they had a chance to be normal’.

Crowley felt the blow, ‘They couldn’t, thanks to demons’.

‘I used to think so, but you know what? There’s a bigger picture, here’, Bobby turned to Crowley, ‘Demons exist because there was a stupid war between God and Lucifer that happened in the beginning of times and kept going, with no chance of reconciliation, for millennia’.

‘You’re saying it’s like for the Capulet and the Montague: no one remembers exactly why they are enemies, but they know they have to carry on the tradition of hatred and vengeance?’

‘Yeah. And everybody else is just a pawn in the game’, Bobby scowled, ‘The boys were unlucky to be main characters in a plot that can only advance if there’s gore’.

‘It explains why so many people – including themselves – die in their own story’.

‘And there’s more on that _blame the demons_ thing’, Bobby said, ‘I was raised _out_ of the life. I had _normal_. And it was not good’.

‘Same here’, Crowley put his empty bowl on the center table and adjusted the duvet on his legs, ‘Human beings disgrace enough their own lives without angels and demons’.

‘You said it’, Bobby stretched his legs and wiggled his covered in socks feet out of the covers, ‘No sense blaming everything on the supernatural when humans can be as much cruel’.

‘Oh’, Crowley had a realization, ‘You’ve read _The Bends_ ’.

‘Uhum’.

Bobby resumed looking for something to watch.

He stopped when he saw a familiar scene with some cowboys.

‘That’s a good example’, Crowley commented, an accusing finger pointed at the screen, ‘A whole movie gender that celebrates the genocide of Native Americans’.

There was a long silence, just filled with the noise from the TV.

Crowley squinted at Bobby, ‘You like Westerns, don’t you, Robert?’

‘Now I know they’re biased and stupid, but I was raised watching them’, Bobby sounded defensive, ‘It’s more about the memories of the kid than the thing in itself’.

Crowley turned completely to Bobby, ‘I guess you spent a lot of time by yourself’.

‘Mom had to work full time’, he sighed, ‘It was better when she was not around me, anyway’.

Crowley understood that completely, ‘They have a way to look at you that hurts like a physical wound’.

‘True…’, Bobby cleared his throat and raised the control again, ‘Let’s watch something else’.

‘No’, Crowley raised a hand, ‘That’s what you want to watch’.

‘What about you?’

‘I can…’, Crowley looked around for ideas, ‘I can read. That’s it. I’ll pick a book and go to the bedroom’.

The moment he pushed the duvet aside, Bobby reached as if to stop him, ‘I wanted us to stay together’.

Crowley stopped moving, ‘Pardon?’

‘Movie night was not supposed to be just for me. It could be, sure, but I wanted to share it with you’.

‘Robert…’, Crowley chose the words carefully, ‘I’ll probably ruin the experience for you’.

‘How so?’

_I keep making you remember the saddest moments of your life._

_That’s what I do._

_You deserve to enjoy things, and my presence muddles it._

Crowley chose not to use that reasoning, ‘I may have changed, but I’m still quite sharp in my criticism. If I stay, there will be derisive comments and smartass remarks’, he offered a forced smile, ‘Not exactly favorable to a peaceful movie night’.

‘You can say what you want. What matters is that you stay’.

Crowley closed his hands in fists.

_Why do you have to be like this, Robert?!_

‘You know what?’, Bobby lifted the covers from his lap, picked a cushion and put it on his thighs, ‘Here. Lie down. You can sleep, if you find the movie too stupid’.

Crowley was confused, ‘You want me to… put my feet there?’

‘What am I? A foot masseur?’, Bobby grunted, ‘You’ll put your _head_ here’.

Crowley eyes went wide, ‘Why?!’

‘Uh?’, Bobby raised a brow, confused, ‘Why not?’

‘I can watch the movie from where I am’, he gestured vaguely to his side of the sofa.

‘Yeah, but you said you didn’t like these movies. You can watch and badmouth it, or just sleep…’, Bobby looked away, embarrassed, ‘I can massage your scalp, if you’ll let me’, he risked a glance, ‘Bet you haven’t had one of those in ages’.

Crowley’s back straightened in alert and confusion, ‘I don’t think I ever had… one of those’, he gulped down, ‘Not without paying, at least’.

‘You shouldn’t have to pay for someone to touch you’.

‘It’s not a matter of _should_ if you don’t have anyone offering without second intentions’.

Crowley frowned painfully.

He had just been assaulted by the memory of his mother getting closer and pretending it was affection, when all she wanted was to speak in his ear and get inside his head.

When Lucifer barged in possessing Castiel, he interrupted Crowley taking advantage of the witchcatcher around Rowena’s neck to force some truths out of her and get some tender contact. That was of his worst memories ever: his mother confessing she knew who his father was, that the man had abandoned her, that her son was the eternal memory of that abandonment, that she had decided to turn her love for him into hate; and then Lucifer revealing himself, Rowena immediately going to his arms without a second glance at her son, thinking she was safe, trusting Lucifer with her powers and being killed.

He felt bad for her. She always fought by herself. She never lowered her shields.

When she did, she was betrayed. 

‘Now you have someone who is offering’, Bobby said.

Crowley stared at the pillow on Bobby’s lap as if it was an animal he was not sure could be petted.

Bobby was not Lucifer. Bobby was not a man who would cheat and leave behind someone who depended on him.

‘My legs are getting cold’.

‘I’m NOT doing it!’

There was a moment of astonishment for both at Crowley’s yell.

‘I’m sorry, Robert’, he rubbed his face with his hands, ‘I know you are trying to help, but…’, he lowered his hands, ‘I can’t’.

‘Bad memories, again?’

Crowley nodded.

‘I’m sorry. It looks like I keep crossing lines’.

‘No, you didn’t do anything wrong. It was a nice offer. I was rude’.

‘If you say so’, Bobby sighed, ‘I respect it if you decide not to stay’, Bobby pulled the covers back on him, ‘But I want you to know I’d rather have you here, mocking my movies’.

_Really, Robert._

_Why do you have to be like this?!_

‘I will stay’, Crowley sat again, pulling the duvet, ‘But if in some way this leads to tragedy, I want registered in the records that I hesitated _consistently_ ’.

Bobby grinned, ‘Noted’.

xxx

They ended up watching a whole Western, and it was not that bad, after all.

Bobby was more amused than annoyed at Crowley’s comments.

‘I’m worried, Robert. Shouldn’t a ball of hay cross the cowboy’s path ominously before the final face-off? Where is it?’

‘He must have lost his cue’.

‘I expected more professionalism’.

‘Old cinema was not easy on the crew’.

‘And you say I am the soft one’.

‘You asked how they protected the horses’.

‘Of course I did! The poor beasts-’, Crowley realized he had fallen into a trap, ‘Bollocks’.

‘Don’t fuss. Like an old friend of mine would say’, Bobby grabbed playfully Crowley’s foot under the covers and threw his best British accent, ‘ _I wouldn’t have it any other way_ ’.

xxx

Watching the first movie was such an entertaining experience that they decided to go for one more.

The _classic movies_ channel announced a celebrated Musical, and Crowley immediately booed.

Bobby was appalled, ‘Can we just agree that _Grease_ has great songs?’

‘Of course, if you can admit it’s a portrait of the North-American 50’s through the misogynistic eyes of the 70’s’.

‘Olivia Newton-John is cute and can sing’.

‘The same goes for John Travolta’, Crowley, who had somehow moved to the middle of the sofa during the Western, was rearranging the duvet, eager to engage in a new debate, ‘However, as handsome as Danny is, Sandy shouldn’t have to change herself for them to end together’.

‘It’s kind of realistic, if you think they’re all supposed to be teenagers, and teenagers can be stupid’.

‘It’s easy being stupid when you have food’, Crowley pouted, ‘I had to juggle in the streets and beg for anything to eat’.

‘You better not dig so deep’, Bobby patted Crowley’s knee, ‘Different places, different centuries, different challenges’.

‘I know’, Crowley breathed deeply, ‘It just feels unfair’.

‘Sure it does’.

‘Tell me, darling’, Crowley smirked at Bobby, deciding to lighten the mood, ‘What was _your_ challenge, as a young man?’

‘I was shy’.

‘Really?’

‘Couldn’t talk to a girl when I was into her’, Bobby pointed at the TV, ‘This movie helped me’.

‘How so?’

‘The drive-in scene’.

‘The one when Danny makes an uninvited pass, can’t get a hint and Sandy has to hit him and run away?’

‘Yeah, that part, but not the handy thing’.

‘What, then?’

‘A bit before that’, Bobby spoke and started raising his arms above his head.

Crowley watched, confused, while Bobby stretched outrageously.

It was kind of entertaining.

The arms descended: the one farther from Crowley went back to Bobby’s side, its hand landing on his lap.

The other arm lowered until it was supporting itself on the back of the sofa.

Bobby approached a bit to get more comfortable, ‘Remember what I’m talking about, now?’

Crowley felt the weight and warmth of the arm on his shoulders, the pressure and heat of their sides touching.

‘Yes’, he gulped down, ‘I remember’.

‘Many boys got inspiration from that’.

‘I see’.

‘You didn’t have to be a cad and harass the girl’, he added, his hand closing around Crowley’s shoulder, ‘It was meant to be a step closer, not a creepy thing’.

‘Of course’, Crowley breathed deeply and tried to relax on the sofa, his body registering every spot where it touched Bobby’s, ‘A person decides what to do with the tools given to them’.

‘Uhum’.

The point of discussion seemed to be closed.

Both went silent, watching the movie.

Neither moved away from each other.

Crowley was torn. It felt wonderful to be pulled against Robert like that. It was an unspoken invitation to nestle and relax, and it was tempting to accept.

However, the more he soaked in it, the more difficult to let go, when the time came.

Maybe indulging was not the wiser decision.

On the other side, maybe fighting it was halting the healing he had to go through.

But accelerating the healing would get him closer to the moment to say goodbye. 

_Torn was a word and a half._

‘Crowley?’

Bobby called him with the softest of voices, while moving a bit.

‘Tired of the position?’, Crowley spoke, hoping he didn’t sound disappointed.

‘We can’t get tired in Heaven, _idjit_ ’, the arm behind them brushed against Crowley’s back, ‘I was going to ask if you’d accept the massage now’.

Crowley’s breathing accelerated a bit.

_I don’t have a real body._

_Why am I having these reactions in bloody Heaven?!_

He felt the slightest of touches in the back of his head and closed his eyes.

It was filled with promise. He could anticipate the sensations...

How he wanted that touch.

Bobby moved a bit closer, ‘So?’

Crowley dodged the question, ‘I thought we were watching the movie’.

‘One thing doesn’t prevent the other, does it?’

‘Like I said, I don’t have much knowhow on that. I guess I may not be able to focus properly in two activities’.

There was a smile in Bobby’s voice, ‘You’re that into _Grease_ , now?’

‘The other option would be watch the patterns of your clothes’, Crowley volleyed back, a stolen glance at the man at his side, ‘At least there is action in the telly’.

_Congratulations, moron. That was a very subtle wording._

‘And I thought you liked my _bear_ stomach’, Bobby teased, fingertips caressing Crowley’s hair, ‘You’re just a tease’.

‘Me?’, Crowley scoffed, ‘You’re the one waiting for a written authorization to massage my scalp’.

_Oy._

_I have no idea what I’m saying, anymore._

Bobby accepted the challenge, and started the massage.

Crowley tried to suppress a moan and failed.

_So, so good._

The caresses mollified him.

He felt warm, safe and cared for.

Reorganizing the kitchen had felt good, but _this_ – being nestled in Bobby Singer’s arms – was _really_ paradise.

‘It’s softer than I thought’.

Surprised by the comment, Crowley threw a side look at Bobby, ‘Excuse me?’

‘Shush, Princess. Relax’.

Crowley scoffed but went back to his previous state of...

What was it?

_Surrender?_

He kept his eyes on the television in hopes to find something to distract himself from what that touch was doing to him.

It started delicate, but soon his head was being scratched in the perfect way…

Crowley closed his eyes in pleasure.

‘My hand is going to smell good’.

Crowley smiled, ‘You’re welcome’.

The soothing movement went on, slowly reaching down until one big hand palmed Crowley’s nape.

His spine tingled.

He sensed Bobby turning towards him.

The chest pressed against his shoulder.

The free hand rested on his knee.

The voice sounded very close to his ear, ‘Is it ok with you?’

‘I better call it a night!’

Crowley spoke already disentangling himself from Bobby, jumped from the sofa and exited the room.

xxx

He ran upstairs and just stopped when he was locked in the bathroom suite.

Crowley lowered his shorts in front of the sink and closed his eyes.

He imagined how Bobby would feel now, large chest pressed against his back, hard cock against his bare ass.

Bobby, with his big heart and brilliant mind, would know exactly what to do.

He would take advantage of his height to kiss and nip Crowley’s neck.

He would use one strong arm to enlace Crowley’s waist and keep him in place.

He would sneak a hand between his buttocks to tease Crowley’s ass.

Crowley caressed the head of his penis.

He had wanted many male and female and other non-classifiable-by-gender beings through his existence, but that desire to be enveloped and safe while being tasted and taken had never been so overwhelming.

He intensified the movements, pressing his palm against the head, flexing the muscles of his ass…

He fantasized about that beard rubbing between his shoulder blades…

Those lips on his nape…

The chest against his back, making him lean forward…

That voice praising his scent and saying how good it was to have him right there…

The orgasm came without warning.

Crowley rode it, welcoming the wave of pleasure.

He needed the relief, after so much tension.

However, when he stopped panting, opened his eyes and faced himself in the mirror, guilt washed over him.

He had just been offered a moment of _tenderness_ , downstairs, and he was forced to leave the room because he had turned it into _lust_.

Crowley turned on the water angrily to wash his hands.

So many layers and complexities in a healthy relationship, and he reacted like a stupid horny well-fed American teenager.

He had just agreed with Bobby that people choose what they do of the situations they are presented, and what he, Crowley, had done? He had been the cad.

He turned off the water and pulled the towel to dry his hands with more force than necessary.

He was so ashamed of himself.

He wished Bobby, confused by his reaction, had decided to let things go.

It was humiliating enough that Crowley would have to find some explanation to give about his hushed departure, probably in the morning. He just couldn’t stand the idea of it happening now.

He threw the towel back in the hook, opened the door and exited the bathroom.

Crowley felt a knot in the place where a physical heart would be.

He was a monster.

Bobby had been offering everything he always wanted – acceptance, understanding, trust – and he was not even brave enough to face the man and apologize for his inappropriate reactions.

Why was he always so wrong?

Why didn’t he enjoy what he was given?

Crowley froze.

_Maybe I can’t._

What if the malfunctioning clogs in this new Heaven’s machinery had not just put him into the wrong place, but brought him there by mistake?

Maybe he felt so wrong because _he didn’t deserve to be there_.

It explained why he had ruined Phillip’s love story, and why he was being such a bad companion to Bobby: his presence in Heaven was fated to disrupt everyone’s happiness, because there was no place for him, there.

Crowley approached the bed and fell on his knees.

He was, for the first time in hundreds of years, pondering on the possibility of _praying_.

He needed answers.

He needed to know what was the right thing to do.

He needed to know how to preserve Bobby from the bad and rotten essence he carried wherever he went.

And the only immediate source of information that occurred to Crowley in that moment of desperation was _angels._

He joined his hands and entwined his fingers.

He saw the pressure in his knuckles make them white.

Who was he praying to?

Naomi, who hid everything she could?

Hannah, who had not interfered?

Castiel, in hopes he was around and could hear?

_No._

He had a compromise with Bobby. They were investigating his case together. It would be another act of treason to break their deal of sticking together.

Crowley slowly separated his hands and got up from the floor.

He kind of feared that his intentions had been enough to attract unwanted angelic attention, and stayed still for some time, as aware of his surroundings as possible, making sure nothing had changed and there wouldn’t be a sudden rustle of feathered wings approaching.

When he was convinced enough, Crowley changed into his pajamas and went to bed, hiding under the covers and wishing himself to sleep as soon as possible.


	8. A much needed conversation

Crowley woke up.

As soon as he was conscious enough to remember the events of the previous night, he pulled the covers over his head.

Of course, sheets and duvets would not preserve him from reality for much time, and he lowered the covers – very slowly – to find out if he was alone in the bed.

He was.

He wondered if Bobby had slept there but left earlier, in order to not see the face of the disgusting soul he was sharing his house with.

He wondered if Bobby had decided not to share a bed with him, anymore.

He wondered if Bobby had decided not to share _the house_ with him.

Maybe he had already collected Crowley’s things, put them back in his bag and deposited it at the front door, for him to pick it up in his way out.

Terrified, Crowley threw the covers aside and ran to the wardrobe to see if his clothes were still hanging there.

They were.

He scoffed at his own idiocy.

Robert Singer was a good person. He would never throw someone’s things at the door like that, even if the someone was an annoying former demon.

Crowley breathed deeply to calm himself.

So, he didn’t have any evidence that Bobby would be demanding him to leave the house in his pajamas; it didn’t mean what he did was forgiven and forgotten, but it gave him the opportunity to say something in his defense.

Time to face the music.

xxx

Crowley exited the bedroom, walked the corridor and went down the stairs looking around, flinching and wringing his hands.

It was horrible being nervous and awkward in that same house he had been used to cherish as a safe and welcoming place. Of course, this was Heaven – he would not stay homeless for much time, if it came to him being expelled – but the fear currently making his chest ache was not about the house, but about his owner.

Crowley had been preparing himself for the moment when he would lose Robert Singer and what he had brought to his existence – the companionship, the caring, the warmth.

He should have known better than to wish for something to sooth, even temporarily, his ingrained feeling of abandonment.

It never happened, and it didn’t matter he was in Heaven – it was still not happening.

xxx

Crowley halted at the end of the stairs, then walked slowly to the double doors.

From there he saw Bobby supporting his back on one of the countertops, arms crossed on his chest, making very clear that he had been waiting.

Crowley’s heart tightened a bit more.

The blue eyes stared from under the cap.

The pain in his chest made him look away and recoil in himself.

_Guilt._

_Shame._

_Remorse._

_Fear._

‘Good morning’.

Crowley gulped down at the voice.

It didn’t carry any obvious disgust; so, he managed to sound civil through his inner terror, ‘Good morning’. 

‘Let’s eat’, Bobby went to the table and pulled a chair for himself, ‘Coffee just got ready’.

Not seeing any options, Crowley mirrored the other man, sitting opposite to him.

He watched while Bobby picked a loaf of bread and started cutting it.

Crowley kept his trembling hands on his lap.

‘I reread Season 2’.

‘Oh’.

Wishing to look casual, Crowley put both hands on the table.

Joined, to hide the shaking.

He didn’t need to look up to feel the eyes of a hunter watching him.

He separated his hands and fussed with a small knife.

‘Couldn’t sleep’.

He let go of the knife and picked the cheese, just to move it some inches to the right, ‘You didn’t go to bed, then?’

‘I did’, Bobby picked the coffee pot to serve himself, ‘But I was too fussy’.

He showed the pot to Crowley, silently asking if he wanted some.

Crowley lifted his mug towards Bobby.

And regretted it, because the trembling of his hand was clearly visible.

Bobby reached out and held the mug (and some hand, too) to steady it while he poured the coffee.

‘Didn’t read everything again. Just the…’, Bobby scoffed, ‘… _better bits_ ’. He put the pot down, sat on his chair again, ‘Prepared breakfast and waited for you’.

Crowley watched Bobby sipping his coffee calmly.

He looked into his own mug, lost on how to proceed.

It seemed Bobby had decided to ignore what had happened, and Crowley should be relieved.

However, he _needed_ to deal with his feelings. He would not be able to live with those things inside, even if Bobby had decided the subject was not worth discussing.

Crowley squared his shoulders and looked at the man across the table, ‘Robert?’

‘Uhm?’

‘I’d like to say…’, he gulped down, almost losing his nerve, ‘Thank you’.

‘For what?’

_For being so welcoming when I appeared out of nowhere._

_For having me here even when I disrupt your life._

_For accepting me even when I’m overly inadequate._

Crowley had those truths on the tip of his tongue.

Bobby’s eyes were on his, patiently waiting.

And at that Crowley lost his nerve.

He lowered his eyes to the options on the table and reached out for whatever was closer, not really seeing it, ‘For everything’.

‘Uhum’, Bobby grunted, ‘Right’.

And the man was back to his coffee.

Crowley really wished he could let things go.

But he couldn’t, ‘It was nice of you, considering what happened’.

Bobby stopped sipping and put the coffee mug on the table.

Very, very slowly.

Crowley started instinctively looking for escape routes.

Bobby leaned towards him, ‘What do you think happened?’

Well, that was surprising.

Crowley had expected a list of all the reasons why it would be better for them if he looked for another place to stay or, in case he insisted in staying, a lecture and a set of strict rules to be followed from then on.

He had been sure Bobby just needed a chance to speak his mind.

He hadn’t expected a question.

He gave up pretending that having breakfast was an option, ‘I left after you asked me not to, and it was quite rude’.

He spoke and sat back on his chair, bracing for the answer.

Bobby squinted, ‘Why did you leave?’

 _Oh, dear._ ‘Because I was uncomfortable’.

‘Why?’

 _Oooh, dear._ ‘Because…’

Bobby was still waiting, completely still, like the hunter he was.

Crowley couldn’t deal with it. he didn’t have his emotions sorted out enough to pursue that conversation.

He got up and spoke as coldly and businesslike as he could, ‘Because it seems I am still too demonic to accept a nice treatment’, he pushed his chair out of the way, ‘I regret bringing up the subject’, he made a point of putting the chair in place, ‘I suggest we skip breakfast and go to town to pick Season 3’.

Crowley had not given two steps towards the double doors and Bobby was already blocking his way.

He retreated instinctively, what gave Bobby the advantage to corner him against the kitchen table.

(Facing off a former _hunter extraordinaire_ was really proving to be a problem.)

‘Crowley’, Bobby spoke calmly but firmly, ‘I know why you left’.

‘Then I don’t see why you asked’.

‘I wanted to get you to open and talk about it’.

‘ _It_ what?’

‘We were doing the same’.

Crowley scoffed, ‘Surely you were thinking of yourself in a very inappropriate situation’.

Bobby rolled his eyes, ‘I was thinking of _us_ ’.

Crowley raised a dubious brow, ‘In a very inappropriate situation?’

‘I’m going to call it _intimate_ ’.

That gave Crowley pause, ‘Thinking of _us_?’

‘Yeah. I was in the sofa doing the same thing you were doing upstairs’.

Crowley looked at the man in front of him from head to toe, trying to accept that Bobby Singer was standing so close, eyes firmly on his, while saying those things.

It was surreal.

Crowley gulped down, ‘I… would have never guessed’.

‘No?’

Crowley’s eyes went large, ‘Does it mean we’ve been having… _moments_ , lately?’

Bobby raised his brows in surprise, ‘Wasn’t it obvious?’

‘I thought I was getting it wrong’.

‘You weren’t’.

Crowley made a distorted face, ‘Bollocks!’

Bobby was incredulous, ‘What did you think I was doing?’

‘Being a generous and supporting person!’

‘I was pawing you! Holding your hand! Snuggling on the sofa!’

‘See?! Generous and supporting!’

‘What kind of creep would I be if I did that to a friend?!’

Crowley opened his mouth to keep the argument going, but he realized he didn’t have an answer to that.

‘Sorry’, Bobby deflated, ‘You don’t have much experience with friends’.

Crowley lowered his head, ‘No. I don’t’.

‘I bet you don’t even think of me as a friend’.

‘Robert…’, Crowley was moved by the disappointment in Bobby’s voice, ‘Don’t take me wrong. I am confused’.

‘Tell me about it. Let me help’.

‘Oh, please, no’.

‘Why not?’

‘You already do a lot more than you need to. I can’t expect you to care for me beyond these very peculiar circumstances we are involved in, and still you have been-’

‘Wait a minute. What’s that supposed to mean? What _peculiar circumstances_?’

Crowley pressed his lips for a moment to not laugh at Bobby’s imitating his accent. It always got to him, ‘It means Heaven-’

‘Look me in the eye when you talk to me’.

‘I am trying to keep a clear mind, and this closeness is not helping’, Crowley snarled, ‘Take into consideration that you just revealed my desire is not unrequited. This situation is not easy for me’.

‘You were always the one to throw innuendo around as if it was nothing. I’m sure you can cope’, Bobby stepped a bit closer, ‘Look at me’.

Crowley made the effort to bring his eyes up.

It was torturous - his glance traced a line from the chest to the neck, the beard, the lips…

When his eyes stayed on the lips more than necessary, Bobby smiled.

Crowley woke up from the daydream, groaned and managed to reach Bobby’s eyes.

‘So?’, the smile was still there, teasing him, ‘I’m all ears’.

The attitude was irritatingly calm, ‘Heaven is the place where everything goes right. Isn’t it obvious to you what is happening here?’

‘I thought it was. I thought we had found each other because it helped us both. But it seems you’re not thinking along the same lines’.

 _Helping both of us? As in being happier together?_ ‘No, I’ve… I’ve been working with other hypothesis’.

‘Tell me what is haunting you’.

Crowley huffed, ‘This is not about _haunting_. These are very well-based theories on what is going on’.

‘Ok’, Bobby crossed his arms, ‘Spill it’.

Crowley nodded fiercely.

For some reason, Bobby’s attitude made him eager to defend the exact same ideas that had been hurting him lately.

‘When we started… _collaborating_ , I assumed you were helping me get on my feet. Given your History as a surrogate father, hunter of monsters and protector of people, I took every gesture you made as kindness and support’.

‘And it changed…?’

‘Last night’.

Bobby raised his brows.

‘The way I see things now, there are only two feasible explanations for my presence here with you’.

Bobby nodded to show he was following.

‘First one: I may be a clog in the system’.

‘Like we both guessed when you first arrived’.

‘Yes. It would explain why I hurt Phillip – it was not just because I was not his James and shouldn’t be in New York, but because I was not even supposed to be in Heaven’.

‘If that hypothesis confirms itself, you don’t belong here with me, either’.

 _Damn you, Robert, your sharp mind and direct approach_ , ‘Exactly’.

‘It means you’re never going to find a spot for yourself-’

Crowley chimed in, ‘-and wherever I go, I hurt the souls there’.

‘Uhm. It’s like you have some…’, Bobby scrunched his nose for effect, ‘ _… evil_ thing inside you’.

‘Don’t say it as if it was a ridiculous notion’.

‘Glad to know it at least _sounded_ as ridiculous to you as it does for me’, Bobby ignored Crowley’s eyes rolling, ‘What’s your other idea?’

Crowley made a point to glare at Bobby before answering, ‘I’m supposed to be in Heaven, but my role here is similar to the foster pets’.

‘What?’

‘I will never find one place to stay, here, because…’, _I don’t deserve it_ , ‘…because I was a demon’.

‘It makes as much sense as the other’, Bobby scowled, ‘Demons don’t have souls. If you’re here, it means you have one, things changed, and whatever happened before is forgiven’.

‘That is wishful thinking, darling’.

‘How so?’

‘Demons go to The Empty when they die. Even _supposing_ I somehow managed to do something that _maybe_ brought me righteously to Heaven, my soul surely doesn’t qualify as the others, here. It would be reasonable that I pay for whatever I did jumping from a person to other, for eternity helping them to find their happiness’.

Bobby was getting annoyed, ‘What the-’

‘Can you say that Phillip didn’t resume his life as a more experienced and mature young man, finally ready to find true love, after I left?’

‘No, I can’t. We don’t know what happened to him’.

‘But we know what happened to you’.

‘To me?’

‘When I arrived here you were barely existing in a dark house and an abandoned yard. I criticized things until you started moving. Maybe that is why I’m here. You needed someone to tell you Chuck’s books existed, so you could read them, learn what happened to the Winchesters, discuss them with someone who knew your boys and move on’.

‘Move on?’

‘Go on with your life’.

‘And what about you?’

‘I suppose I go… find another person to help’.

Crowley could hear the regret in his own voice.

Bobby frowned, ‘So, in any scenario… You’re never the one to enjoy Heaven. In the best scenario, the deed is done and you go to find another one. Never resting. Never getting something good and permanent’.

‘After all I’ve done?’, Crowley gave a sad smile, ‘Why should I be given a chance?’

Bobby made a pained face, ‘What about redemption?’

‘Again, wishful thinking’.

‘What about Heaven being the place to finally have some peace?’

‘Not for former demons’.

‘What about the welcoming reception by Naomi?’

‘Everyone loves foster dogs’.

Bobby growled, ‘You better cut that crap’.

‘Robert…’

‘What?’

‘Don’t growl like that’.

‘Because you like it?’

‘Yes’.

‘Then I must keep doing it’.

‘Please…’

Bobby sighed, ‘You think you’re going to hurt me? That I can’t defend myself from you?’

‘I have hurt Phillip’.

‘I’m not your guy from New York. I’m the hunter who defeated you in a game of brains and got his soul back’.

Crowley nodded weakly.

‘I always wondered…’, Bobby leaned his head, what put their mouths very close, ‘Did you ever think about it?’

Crowley felt the heat in his face, ‘About what?’

‘When we sealed the deal’.

‘You mean the kiss?’

‘Uhum’.

‘I kept proof of it in my phone’, Crowley gave a nervous smile, ‘What do you think?’

‘That you’re a smartass, but that’s not the point, now’, Bobby smirked, ‘What I want to know is if you really thought of it – if you wondered why I didn’t realize you were taking a shot, for instance’.

‘I guess you were too occupied grimacing’.

‘You found that funny, didn’t you?’

‘It was hilarious’, Crowley straighten his back, ‘I had seen so many men doing it – negotiating with demons in pretty girl’s meat suits, then entering panic mood when they saw _me_ there to seal the deal – and I had no idea how you would react, so-’

‘Do you remember that I pushed you?’

‘Of course. As soon as the first tingling of the deal started’.

Bobby moved closer, an inch separating their chests, ‘And why do you think I did that?’

‘Wasn’t it the implicit repulse?’

‘No’, Bobby pressed his lips in annoyance, ‘My neck was killing me’.

‘Pardon?’

‘I was in a wheelchair. You dragged the moment as much as you could, babbling on the integrity of contracts and the importance of your position and the pain in the ass my boys had been, and when you finally came on me, you didn’t even have the grace to set a comfortable position for the invalid’.

‘Oh’, Crowley frowned, revisiting the moment in his head, then raised a brow, ‘Well, you surely were not _grace_ personified, either. You pushed me away rudely, then grabbed me by the lapel-’

‘-and the nape’, Bobby added in a whisper, ‘To have you where I wanted’.

Their eyes locked.

‘It worked’, Crowley licked his lips, ‘It sealed the deal’.

‘And we had a good taste of each other’.

Crowley felt his whole body warm, ‘It was a very… _interesting_ kiss, indeed’.

‘Was it?’, Bobby leered, ‘Or you say it to every guy you suck the soul off?’

‘Definitively not’, Crowley chuckled, ‘I didn’t even have the chance to discuss it, most of times. The men would make faces and groan like spoiled pets in bath time. I ended the encounter when their discomfort was not entertaining, anymore – and, believe me, it stopped being amusing quite quickly’.

‘And I was not one of those’.

‘At first, with the groaning and pushing, I thought you were. But then you pulled me back and I could say you were truly invested’, Crowley softened, ‘You used tongue, after all’.

‘I didn’t know what kind of kiss we needed, but with all the tingling going on I decided to seize the moment and gave my best’.

Crowley smirked, ‘Are you saying it was as good for you as it was for me?’

‘You’re not deaf or dumb’, Bobby lift a hand and reached out slowly, until his knuckles caressed Crowley’s cheek, ‘You were there. You know how it was’.

Crowley close his eyes forcefully, ‘Robert…’

Bobby lowered his hand, respecting the unspoken plea, ‘I kept thinking of it’.

Crowley opened his eyes and gulped down to gather some control, ‘You did?’

‘I hated myself for thinking of it’.

‘Because I was a demon?’

‘No. At that point I had understood that each creature is its own self. Judging sentient beings by categories is prejudice’.

 _Why so perfect?!_ , ‘Then it was because I was male?’

‘Nah. That was kinda new, but not something to make me hate my own guts’.

‘Then why?’

‘Because we had a lot in our plates. No time to daydream of short, dark and handsome’.

The indignant tone while saying those things made Crowley smile, moved.

‘And when it was over, you wouldn’t give my soul back _and_ would treat me like garbage’.

Crowley got defensive, ‘I was a demon’.

‘And I was not into mixed messages’.

‘What is that supposed to mean?’

‘The pet names, giving my legs back, not injuring me when you could, and then not getting revenge on me or the boys after I forced you to rewrite the contract… It looked like there was something more going on for us… But it was not clear. I didn’t know if you were not interested at all or just toying with me. It was a crap situation’.

‘Wait a moment’, Crowley was indignant, ‘You can’t accuse me of not taking you seriously after _you_ tried to negotiate through flirting’.

‘You noticed, then’.

‘Of course I noticed. I was not a moron. The invitation for a drink, mentioning my favorite scotch, the fake nonchalant leaning against the desk’, he scoffed, ‘It was so obvious it was offensive’.

‘You were offended because I was a disaster at flirting?’

‘I was offended because you were trying to get your soul back through that’.

‘Sure I wanted my soul back, but not just that’.

‘Oh, really? You’re going to say you intended to get laid by the demon who has betrayed the spirit – no pun intended – of the deal he had with you?’

Bobby looked embarrassed, ‘Yeah’.

‘Why would you do that?’

‘What kind of question is that?’, Bobby crossed his arms defensively, ‘The world was ending and I kept thinking of the strange things I felt about you. I had to do something, and the best way to approach you was being… I don’t know… _charming_? Offering the poison you liked? Showing I was open to conversation? What do you do to make a demon boss to not see you as just a puppet?’

Crowley blinked, ‘You wanted… my attention?’

‘You bet I wanted’, Bobby pouted, ‘The kiss had been something else, and still…’

Bobby didn’t seem to know how to finish that sentence.

This time it was Crowley who stepped closer to prod, ‘Still what?’

‘You never called, stupid!’

_What?_

‘I didn’t know what those thrills during the kiss meant. I didn’t know if I was supposed to keep thinking of it – of _you_. I’m not the boys. I had never sold my soul, before. I wondered if I was connected to you, why there was desire involved… And I didn’t have anyone to ask’.

‘So, it was not a cheap trick?’

‘No’.

‘I already had your soul, and you were thinking of offering your body?’

‘Not very clever, but… Yeah. It’s a way to put it’.

‘It’s kind of romantic…’

‘Maybe, in a bad gothic novel’, Bobby smiled, ‘It seems we are perfect characters for _Supernatural_ ’.

Crowley smiled, too, but he was still intrigued, ‘Interesting’.

‘What?’

‘It looks like my suspicions blinded me’.

‘Uhum’, Bobby uncrossed his arms, ‘You know, I was pissed when I summoned you just to be brushed away, but it was good to make you come over again’.

Bobby stepped so close Crowley had to look up to face him, ‘Even when I brought Hellhounds?’

‘That didn’t help much’, Bobby leaned his head, ‘But I kinda liked that, too’.

‘You are crazy, Robert’.

‘For wanting you then?’, his hands rested on Crowley’s arms, ‘Or for admitting it now?’

‘For compromising with the kinds of me’.

‘So…’, Bobby’s eyes pulled Crowley’s eyes to his, ‘You don’t think we should give it a go?’

Crowley’s lips parted.

If Bobby kissed him now, he wouldn’t be able to resist.

He would _give every go_ Heaven permitted them to.

However, Bobby didn’t kiss him. He put the decision in his hands.

Crowley shook his head, ‘I don’t think it would be reasonable’.

Bobby’s hands caressed his arms, ‘Why?’

‘I-I don’t want to be a burden’.

‘You think I have the hots for you because you need help?’

The nervous laugh was back, ‘I am impressed by your ability to pose such a philosophical question in such pedestrian words’.

Bobby took his hands off him, ‘Crowley…’

‘Maybe I need help, maybe I’m in the wrong place, maybe I’m just passing by. It doesn’t matter. I’ll be a burden anyway, because… I don’t belong’.

Crowley wished his voice hadn’t trembled in those last words.

It brought pain to Bobby’s eyes.

‘See? That’s what I have been talking about, Robert’, Crowley felt his eyes wet, ‘I’m making my best, here, and all I get is making you worry’.

‘I worry because I like you. It’s not a problem. It’s how things work’, Bobby was serious, ‘You must trust me’.

‘I crossed half a huge country in hopes to find you because you are the only creature I have ever truly trusted. That’s not the point’.

‘Then what is?’

Crowley was suddenly aware of the whole array of emotions drawing him to that soul in front of him.

He was faltering.

He wished for a clear head and resumed his arguments, ‘You haven’t read about me, yet, in the books. Your opinion of me may change. It would not be fair to you to start… something, now’.

‘We have already talked that over. You didn’t have a soul when those things happened. I said we’re together in this, and we are, no matter what I find out you did when you were King of the Rotten’.

‘I get it, but sharing a routine affects one’s judgment. You see me cooking or picking groceries and you forget that I was a demon’.

‘I never forget what you were. It’s part of what you are’.

‘Yes, but what about my hypothesis? In both of them this arrangement is temporary; thus, we-’

Bobby raised a hand to stop him, ‘Should we sit again?’

‘What? Why?’

‘Because you’re going in circles. If you keep doing that, there is a lot of make-up stupid arguments for us to get back. It could take some time’.

Crowley opened his mouth in shock, ‘How dare you mock me when I’m trying to do what is best for us?’

‘I’m just saying how I see things’, Bobby said, seriously, ‘There is no doubt, for me. I like you, I want you, it’s been like this for a while after the deal, but I accepted you were not interested in me, and I never thought of it again. And then I died, and I was a ghost, and I died again, and you rejected me again in Hell, and I came to Heaven to live in a mindless vanilla thing, and then I got to prison, and then I got back and there was nothing to live for… until you appeared in that road’.

Crowley’s shock deepened.

He had never imagined Bobby had wanted him at any point, or that he wanted him there, in Heaven.

‘I don’t know why you’re here. I don’t know if this is supposed to be temporary. And I don’t care. What matters to me is that things are better since you came along’, Bobby sighed, ‘I just need to know if you feel the same’.

That strange pain was back into Crowley’s chest.

That was probably the most difficult thing he had ever been asked to put into words.

‘If you are asking if things have been better since I came here’, Crowley spoke through a sudden constricted throat, ‘I don’t remember things being so good, ever’.

Bobby smiled.

‘But if you are asking if I feel the same’, the wetness went back to his eyes, ‘I have no idea. You are the most handsome, adorable, enticing being in existence, to me. However, I can’t trust myself. This is Heaven, and we are subjected to all kinds of falsities and machinations. I couldn’t start something with you when I am quite sure it would end badly, and…’

_I don’t want to lose this yet._

_I never had something so special._

_Please, don’t tempt me to risk it._

‘…it would not be fair’.

Crowley finished talking and closed his eyes forcefully.

He felt like there was something gripping his heart.

‘It’s all right’, Bobby’s voice sounded gentle, ‘I get it’.

Crowley opened his eyes.

‘I can’t convince you that you deserve better than being tossed from one side to the other. You must believe it yourself’, Bobby took a step behind, out of Crowley’s personal space, ‘All I can do is stay around and help’.

‘Help?’

‘Yeah. I won’t let you to consume yourself in guilty and idiocy. I’ll keep doing my thing. With some luck it won’t take you too long to realize you’re wasting your time instead of… How would you say it?’, Bobby frowned for a moment, ‘Ah! _Snogging_ me’.

Crowley gave a wet smile, ‘Good God, Robert…’

‘I’ll be careful, but I’ll keep touching you. We’re in Heaven, but I’m no saint – it helps me cope’, Bobby put his hands in the pockets of his jeans, ‘I promise not to cross any line. You say the word and I’ll back off’.

‘I have no idea where any lines are supposed to be’.

‘We’re souls. We have nothing to guide us but what we feel, here’, Bobby shrugged, ‘It’s not that bad that we’re in the dark’.

‘Don’t patronize me’, Crowley frowned, annoyed, ‘I’m well aware of how ridiculous it is that I tell you we better keep our distance when we share a bed, or when I say I don’t want to go further but run to touch myself because of a caress’.

‘It’s not ridiculous. It’s how you feel’.

‘It _is_ ridiculous. I’m a three hundred years old being!’

‘Don’t play the experienced old man act on me’.

‘I should be able to deal with having a friend!’

Bobby raised his brows.

‘What?’

‘So, now we are friends’, he smiled, ‘It’s progress’.

‘I guess so’, Crowley pouted, ‘Even if I don’t feel like I have the repertoire to react even to that’.

‘Listen to me’, Bobby held one of Crowley’s hands, ‘Let’s not label whatever it is we have between us. Just try not to run for the hills every time a nice feeling comes up, and leave the rest to me’.

‘Jesus. Good intentions, moronic plans and self-sacrifice for others – could you be more Team Free Will?’

‘I appreciate the feeling, but if that is the criteria, you are the one being Team Free Will, in this – specially the self-sacrifice part’.

Crowley growled, ‘This is not about feelings, Robert’.

‘Uhum’, Bobby kept looking at their joined hands, ‘Whatever you say, Princess’.

Crowley sighed.

‘Are you all right?’

‘I think so’, Bobby’s thumb caressed his hand, ‘Can we, please, end this discussion? I feel emotionally drained’.

‘Sure’.

‘For the records, I agree with your terms: no labels, just living each day and seeing where it takes us’.

‘It means we have a deal?’

Crowley rolled his eyes, ‘Yes’.

‘Good’, Bobby let of the hand and raised his arms, ‘Come here’.

Crowley froze.

Bobby put his hands on Crowley’s cheeks, leaned in and kissed his forehead gently.

Crowley felt on fire.

He thought he was going to die.

Bobby parted from him, ‘Ready?’

‘For what?’

‘To go to town. To pick Season 3’.

‘Oh’, Crowley saw the knowing smirk in Bobby’s face at his reaction, and threw him a glare before turning to the double doors, ‘You are lucky I don’t have any demonic powers, or your head would be decorating a wall’.

‘You say it but you don’t mean it…’, Bobby passed by him to pick their coats at the front door and open it chivalrously, ‘… _mate_ ’.


	9. Free course

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting.

Bobby said he would keep doing _his thing_ , and so he did: the drive to town was filled with easy conversation, knowing smiles and harmless teasing.

Crowley was not really surprised. If there was someone who could successfully pursue a plan, it was Bobby Singer.

Crowley could do it, too. He had done it as many times as necessary, when he was a demon. In fact, he just survived for as long as he did (and just died by his own hand) because he always was ten steps ahead, had a plan and some back-up plans.

He had let it go a bit in Heaven, but not much. In the back of his mind, he was always looking for the catch in every situation.

However, the conversation at breakfast gave him a whole new perspective.

Maybe it was time to be just shotgun – watch the view and accept the pretty things given to him while he was driven by someone he trusted.

xxx

Bobby parked the truck in front of the library – as always, there was a convenient spot free for them not to carry piles of books for whole blocks.

xxx

They entered the building and went right to the front desk to deposit Season 2.

‘Hello, gentlemen’, the guy at the desk, who was not the same from the previous times, spoke to them with a bright smile, ‘I’m Samandriel, and I’m here to help you’.

Bobby greeted back, but Crowley made such a contorted face that Bobby mumbled _Excuse us_ and pulled him aside, ‘What’s wrong? You look like you’re going to puke’.

‘That guy is an angel’.

‘Literal angel?’

Crowley nodded

‘Uhm. We better be careful’, Bobby lifted a brow, ‘Stop making faces’.

They turned and walked back to the desk but, before they could say a word, Samandriel resumed speaking, ‘I was informed that you two are invested in reading the Supernatural series, and I was authorized to give you permission to take home entire seasons, each of you’.

Crowley was wary, ‘Authorized by whom?’

‘Higher powers’.

‘What is that supposed to mean?’, Crowley showed his teeth menacingly, ’You better-’

‘We’ll take it’, Bobby involved Crowley in his arms, as if the former demon needed to be contained, ‘Send our gratitude to whoever did it’.

‘Great!’, Samandriel’s grin turned impossibly bigger, ‘If you’ll accept a suggestion…’

Bobby, still holding Crowley, spoke for them, ‘Go ahead’.

‘Season 3 has just 16 books. I’m sure with the appropriate pauses, you could read it here’.

Crowley chimed in, ‘And take seasons 4 and 5 home?’

‘Exactly’.

Bobby smiled at the man in his arms, ‘I’ve heard they have some of the most interesting character entrances’.

‘Uh, yes. Seasons 4 and 5 are quite delightful’, Crowley smiled back.

Their eyes locked.

Bobby hesitated, as if intending to loosen his hold, but Crowley raised a hand to rest it on Bobby’s arm, showing he didn’t mind the manhandling.

Samandriel spoke to the shorter man, ‘If you have already read the series, you are invited to appreciate our large collection’.

Twin suspicious looks were directed at the angel.

His blissful face didn’t waver for a moment.

Crowley squinted, ‘I’m sure I can make the best of the opportunity’. 

xxx

They were descending the stairs to the library’s basement when the former King of Hell broke the silence, ‘What do you make of it, Robert?’

‘It’s annoying that they had been watching us, but we should have known’, Bobby shrugged, ‘Angels have a history of being controlling dicks’.

‘I was referring to the fact they seem to _want_ us to read the books, but your point made me nervous. Do you think they are watching us?’

They reached the floor, ‘Not watching every step we take, but they know we’re reading the books and even sent a guy to speed things up’.

‘It is rather disturbing’.

‘It may be a hint we’re doing the right thing’, they reached the _Supernatural_ shelves, Bobby started picking the books of Season 3 and putting them on Crowley’s waiting arms, ‘Or a trap’.

‘Maybe this whole reading thing is so useless they decided to mock us giving us easy access to the books’.

‘Reading is never useless’, Bobby adjusted the last eight books in his arms, ‘If it doesn’t bring any big revelations, at least we’ll have God’s point of view on things’.

‘’ And we never know when something like that may come in handy’, Crowley conceded, ‘You are right, pet’, he smiled, ‘As always’.

‘Aw’, Bobby smiled and gestured for them to walk back to the stairs, ‘Aren’t you a nice and cute demon?’

‘You have a very peculiar way of _wooing_ someone, Robert’.

‘You’re welcome’.

xxx

While Bobby read, Crowley occupied himself perusing the shelves of the large library.

He compared the extent of some sections with the ones in the place he worked, in New York.

(They were quite different from one another.

Good to know things didn’t follow some kind of standard, in Heaven.)

He read parts of History books to check the versions brought to Heaven and find out which were the most recent facts recorded.

(There was information up to 2018.

He wondered what it meant: was the World of Living in 2019? Or they were just permitted to know things until that year?)

He explored the _Fiction_ section and found out a book published in 2021.

A through search showed the most recent fictional works were all from that same year.

Crowley moved instinctively to the main room to share with Bobby the possibility of having a time frame.

However, as soon as he laid eyes on the former hunter reading, his face one of pure concentration, hands holding the book in front of him with all the care of someone who loved such objects, he just stood there, watching.

Robert was too cute for his own good, and surely he was too cute for Crowley to deal with.

He approached the desk with careful steps, but – as expected – Bobby finished a book exactly when Crowley reached his side.

‘ _Dream a little dream of me_ ’, Crowley read the title out loud, ‘That’s a though one’. 

Bobby just nodded, eyes cast down.

‘The next one is very entertaining’, he commented, gesturing for _Mystery Spot_ and leaning to speak very close to Bobby’s ear with his softest voice, ‘What do you say we take a break? I have some interesting findings to share and I happened to notice there is a hamburger place just around the corner’.

‘Sounds nice’, Bobby offered a smile, ‘Thanks’.

‘Anything for you, love’.

xxx

The tables had stylish tablecloths and were surrounded by comfy sofas. It screamed 50s’, and Bobby was so pleased by the new _Grease_ reference that Crowley couldn’t stop his own grin while trying to give the man a dirty look.

There was natural juice served with the greasy food, huge glass windows with a good view of the street for them to sit by and an air of privacy from the walls separating the tables.

Crowley threw a judging glare around and stated the whole thing was _acceptable_.

He told Bobby about his findings of a possible timeframe while they waited for the burgers. They had already created and discarded four different hypotheses on the co-relation between passing time in different planes of existence when the food arrived.

Giving the circumstances and the very nice appearance of the burgers, they decided that, for the time being, they better let it go of the matter and concentrated on reading the Supernatural series and enjoying themselves plenty while doing it.

xxx

Crowley was having a lot of fun.

He was still not ready to admit how much he enjoyed this small town experience – quite different from the circles he usually frequented, as a demon –, but he had always been open-minded.

Besides, just watching Bobby indulging happily in his food was entertaining.

‘I wonder, Robert’, he spoke while cutting his burger with fork and knife _because he was not a savage_ , ‘Was Sioux Falls so nice in the real world?’

‘I liked it’, Bobby dealt bravely with his food, someway managing not to mess up his beard, ‘But I suppose you get used to the place where you grow up’.

Crowley frowned.

Bobby noticed, ‘Thinking of Scotland?’

‘Yes. I can’t say I managed to like it. Sometimes I wonder if I would ever feel at home, if I went back there’.

‘You never visited?’

‘No. It made no sense to go, when I got off the racks. Decades had passed, and I had a new world of possibilities to explore, being a demon. Going back to some dump and dark corner of the world didn’t make the list’, he squinted, ‘Of course, I was forced to visit in a memorable occasion’.

Bobby pretended to hide behind his glass at the mention of the time Crowley had to rescue his bones from the Winchesters.

‘But those things are in the past’, the former demon took the other man off the hook at the cute display, ‘It seems like you have an opposite view on the matter’.

‘Yeah. I travelled around a bit, but always felt like my place was here’.

‘It is proof of the superior quality of your soul that you managed to live in a town that must bring up so many bad memories’.

‘There were good memories, too’.

‘Maybe that was what makes the difference between us’.

Crowley sipped his juice, feeling suddenly emotional.

‘Well, now we are in an improved version of Sioux Falls’, Bobby said, lightening the mood, ‘There’s a lot more things around, in Heaven’s version’.

‘I guessed so’, Crowley felt his sadness go away, ‘Our small tours have already revealed some elegant shops that just belong in a town like this because we are in a controlled environment’.

‘Hey’, Bobby frowned, ‘We have style in small American towns’, he perused the table, picked his unused fork and put it upside down in Crowley’s glass, ‘See? You’ve got a demon trident in your drink. Stylish!’

Crowley chuckled, ‘Moron’.

Bobby’s shoulders moved in silent laughing, and Crowley kept staring, a smile on his lips.

That man was adorable.

‘I was thinking’, Bobby resumed the conversation after some munching, ‘I just finished book 10-’

Crowley promptly recited the title again, ‘ _Dream a little dream of me_ ’.

Bobby huffed, ‘Will never think of the song the same way’.

Crowley nodded, holding the fork a bit to the side to sip his drink.

(No, he didn’t take off the fork. It was a gift and he treasured it.)

Bobby concluded his sentence, ‘… and I was thinking I could finish the other 6 books and start season 4 here’.

Crowley just didn’t splutter because they were in Heaven and no way he was staining one of his brand new light colored shirts, ‘No, no, no. You’re not spending the whole day reading’.

‘Why not? Would not be the first time, here or on Earth’.

Crowley made faces.

‘What’s the problem?’, Bobby leaned his head, ‘You’re not whining to stall my reading, are you?’

Crowley was going to protest the use of the verb _whine_ related to him, but stopped himself, realizing Bobby had a point, ‘I don’t know’.

‘I hope you’re still not thinking I’ll change my mind about you when I read the things you did’.

‘No, It’s not that. Your little show this morning made me quite convinced that I am not in danger of being expelled from your house’.

‘My little-Wait’, Bobby put the burger down, ‘You thought I was going to send you away?’

Crowley froze for a moment.

Just a moment – enough to realize he had said too much and put on a façade of nonchalance while fussing with the contents in his plate, ‘I was already calculating the distance from the yard to the nearest hotel’.

‘You thought I was going to kick you out?’, Bobby was baffled, ‘Why?’

‘I’ve told you, Robert. I was convinced that I didn’t have a place there’.

Bobby didn’t answer.

Crowley looked up.

Their eyes met.

‘You thought I didn’t care for you’.

‘That is not true. You could care and, still, decide I did not deserve to be there’.

Crowley had to pick his glass to sip.

Saying out loud he didn’t deserve being cared for twisted his insides.

‘That’s not how it works’, Bobby protested, ‘If you care for someone, you don’t just send them away when they do something you don’t approve, or break a promise, or whatever you can think of’.

‘It didn’t go through my mind’.

‘You’re an idjit’.

‘Flattery won’t take you anywhere’.

Crowley was trying to joke, but it came out a lot more pained than it should to be considered playful.

‘Hey’, Bobby called and extended his arm on the table, palm up.

Crowley recoiled a bit on his chair, ‘What do you want?’

‘I want to reach a compromise. I want you to say you know I care for you and that I’m not abandoning you’.

Crowley gulped down, ‘Has anyone ever told you how awfully long your arms are?’

‘Some boys at school mentioned it a long time ago. They regretted opening their mouths. Now stop stalling’.

Crowley looked around nervously, ‘There is no need for such formalities. If it makes you feel more at easy about it, I am absolutely aware that, regarding my wrong reading of the situation, it was not you – it was me’.

‘You have guts to use a crappy _break-up_ line on me’.

‘No guts, darling’, Crowley managed a smirk, ‘ _Soul_ ’.

Bobby opened a grin at that.

And recoiled his arm to get back to his burger, ‘This is not over’.

‘I wouldn’t have it any other way’.

Bobby huffed at the reference, but didn’t comment.

Crowley went back to eating, too.

‘We’ll stick to the plan’, Bobby said, after a long pause in the conversation, dedicated to finish the burgers, ‘I’ll finish Season 3, we pick 4 and 5 and go home’.

‘We don’t have to’, Crowley shook his head, making a small ball of a napkin, ‘If you want to read here, there is no problem. I will find something to do’, he sighed theatrically, ‘Poor me, all alone in a town filled with strangers. Of course, I can always stay in the truck. If I sleep, at least I won’t be aware of the infinite amounts of _no-time_ passing by while we are apart’.

‘That’s what this is about?’

Crowley noticed the smile in Bobby’s face and dropped the rant, ‘What do you mean?’

‘You want to be in the house because there we are by ourselves’, he gestured to the street through the window, ‘No strangers around, no angels watching. Just the two of us, free to do whatever we want’.

Crowley seemed taken aback.

Bobby went on, ‘You still have the frame of mind to fear showing affection in public. It’s ok if I pretend to be stopping you from hitting an angel pretending to be a librarian, but the moment I ask you to hold my hand you imagine something awful will happen’, he leaned towards the other man, ‘What do you think will happen? A mob is going to beat us? The clouds will open to reveal an army of angels recording our actions and ready to punish us?’, his voice lowered, ‘Or maybe you’re expecting an army of demons, eager to expose you because you have feelings’.

Crowley kept staring at Bobby.

The man found out what was going on before himself.

It would be annoying if it was not so helpful.

‘Am I right?’, Bobby asked, softening his voice, ‘You’re afraid some bigots are coming on us if you’re affectionate?’

‘I suppose so’, Crowley pushed his plate aside and supported his joined hands on the table, ‘I was yelled at and beaten so many times, when I was human, just for being me. I was always called wrong – the way I moved, the way I looked, the way I spoke’, he munched a bit on the next words, ‘When I closed the deal with the demon, all I wanted was something to show off how much of a man I was’.

Bobby nodded in understanding.

‘As a demon I still wanted to be recognized and valued. I had no pedigree, no relationship with Lucifer, and still, I was certain that I could be the king’.

‘Power gives you the illusion of safety’.

Crowley scoffed, ‘I soon appreciated the irony of being powerful and having the huge target on my back’, he breathed deeply, ‘And then, as you eloquently stated, I regained the ability to feel and a good part of my mental energy was directed to hide it from other demons’.

‘It’s not a demon thing to mock and reject feelings’, Bobby said, ‘You went through it in your century and, as stupid as it is, I went through it in mine’.

Crowley leaned his head, intrigued.

‘If we had met as normal humans, no demon or hunter thing involved, I don’t know if I’d have the guts to try anything with you. Maybe I’d be one of those guys who don’t say a word for their whole lives about what they really want’.

‘Are you saying being a hunter opened your mind to the possibilities?’

‘When you know the kinds of things that exist out there, the universe gets bigger. Life is a lot more than judging people for which shapes they like in their beds’.

Crowley smiled, ‘That is a nice way to say it’.

Bobby smiled back.

‘You know what, love? Enough of this demureness’, Crowley spoke and maneuvered to sit beside Bobby, sharing that side of the sofa with him.

Delighted, Bobby put his arm on Crowley’s shoulders, ‘I intended to meet you halfway, but this is better’.

‘With arms this long there is no chance of us meeting halfway when you extend them’.

Crowley teased and, without missing a beat, reached for Bobby’s hand to entwine their fingers on the table.

Bobby’s face was illuminated, ‘Even if we’re cleared on this…’, he gestured to their joined hands, ‘…I agree that it’s better at home’.

‘I appreciate it’, Crowley smiled, ‘Thank you, love’.

‘Thank you for trusting me and not dragging things because of denial’, he nudged the other man with his body, ‘And for coming to me like this’.

‘I don’t know what you are talking about. I just decided to share your view’, Crowley smirked, gesturing to the street outside, ‘It’s quite pretty’.

Bobby caressed the hand in his, eyes on the profile of the former King of Hell, his current companion in Heaven, ‘Yes, it is’.


	10. Higher powers

Bobby accepted Crowley’s help to organize the piles of books from Seasons 4 and 5 at his desk, sat down and looked up pleadingly.

‘Don’t say a word’, Crowley raised his hands in surrender, ‘The puppy eyes mean I should see myself out’.

‘You’ll get bored while I read’, Bobby leaned his head, ‘But you can come take a look if you miss my mug’.

‘It’s not the same as interacting with such a sharp mind as yours, but contemplating beauty while it entertains itself in an intriguing plot helps’.

‘Charmer’.

Crowley smiled and took Bobby’s hand, ‘Have a good reading, darling’.

Happily surprised at the affectionate touch coming from Crowley, Bobby held the hand in his in silent acknowledgement.

xxx

Crowley stayed in the kitchen.

The breakfast table was yet to be cleaned, after their somewhat turbulent conversation before departing to town.

When it was done he spent some time glaring at the old and dirty curtains that still covered the windows. 

When he got tired of plotting the demise of such offending objects, he decided to prepare a salad for them.

Bobby’s love for greens made Crowley’s work easy: he mixed some leaves they had acquired in the supermarket, cut side ingredients to add and enrich the flavor, and prepared different dressings.

Crowley was enjoying greatly the novelty of having time and opportunity to focus on something entertaining that didn’t involve blood, gore and dangerous plots. Having a soul meant things that would be seen as inane by a demon were now the center of very satisfying human experiences – experiences he had never had the chance to truly know, before.

xxx

Bobby intended to binge-read Season 4, but Crowley was convinced the offer of a tasteful break would be enough to rip the man from his current obsession.

However, when he stepped into the living room bearing in mind plans of quality time spent together, the current state of things made him give up.

Bobby was completely focused, hands on the sides of his head, so absorbed in the story that he didn’t notice the former King of Hell watching him from the double doors.

Crowley knew how important it was for Bobby to advance in Chuck’s writings. He remembered his own interest in the _Supernatural_ series – the incredible strategic valor of seeing the Winchesters’ lives first hand, understanding them and their sometimes stupid decisions better.

He could just guess the feelings going through Bobby now. His interest in the story went beyond their current plans to get a hold on what was going on in Heaven: he regarded those boys as his kids, and he was having the chance to follow their lives closer than ever.

Resigned to have some more unmeasurable time to in his hands – but with the firm conviction that he was doing the right thing –, Crowley retreated to the kitchen.

xxx

Bobby ended up going to him by his own volition.

Crowley had just finished giving the last touches in the china with the dressings when the other man appeared at the double doors, blinking repeatedly as if getting back to reality.

‘I guess you finished the whole season’.

‘Yeah’.

‘That one has a lot of action’, Crowley pulled a chair for Bobby, ‘Getting to meet Castiel, finding out what the angels were really up to, Moose and demon blood, Alastair, the seals being broken and Lucifer breaking free of The Cage’, he gestured to the fridge, ‘May I serve us when we can talk about it?’

‘Nice memory you have’, Bobby praised, but didn’t accept the chair, ‘Thanks, but I just came to tell you I’m going to start your season’.

Crowley frowned, ‘It’s hardly _my season_ ’.

Bobby rolled his eyes, but conceded, ‘The one you enter the story’.

‘You are certain you want to go back to reading, already?’, he raised a finger, ‘Take a look’.

Crowley opened the fridge for Bobby to see the contents.

‘Wow’, the man’s eyes were bright when he looked at Crowley’s face, ‘You had any idea you would be so good at that?’

‘Cooking?’

‘Cooking new things, experimenting, serving with a nice visual. The whole package’.

‘I never really thought about it’, Crowley answered sincerely, then pouted, ‘You are not staying, are you?’

Bobby shook his head, ‘Sorry’.

Crowley closed the fridge, ‘Is there any need for reading three whole seasons in one day?’

‘I want to get everything done as soon as possible’.

‘Why?’

‘So many reasons. Mainly Chuck himself’, Bobby explained, patiently, ‘God just came in the story and he was not just keeping who he was a secret – he _mocked_ the boys. He told them he was God when they couldn’t believe it. I want to know more about that guy’.

Crowley approached the other man, his disappointment overcome by understanding, ‘Well, the title of that story is _The Monster at the end of the Book_ ’.

‘Exactly’, Bobby passed his fingers through his own hair, no cap in the way this time, ‘And of course, I’m curious about you’.

Crowley scoffed, ‘I hope your desire for some juicy gossip on me pays rejecting my salad’.

‘I’d never reject anything that comes from you, Princess’, Bobby smiled, ‘I’m taking a raincheck’.

Crowley opened his mouth to say something along the lines of _I never even saw rain in Heaven_ but changed course at the warmth in Bobby’s eyes, ‘Get out of here. It’s embarrassing how I _can’t_ get annoyed at you’.

xxx

Crowley made the effort to respect Bobby’s wishes to be left alone and read nonstop.

However, Fate – or whatever force pestered souls in Heaven until they did something – seemly wanted him to go to the living room.

The moment he saw Bobby rubbing his eyes and picking a new book, an impulse made him reach the desk in big steps and yank the book from the man’s hands.

‘Hey’, Bobby protested weakly.

‘Enough of it’.

Bobby cleared some tears from his cheeks, ‘Gimme that back’.

‘No. We are going to have our break now’.

‘I can go on. Just needed some moments’.

‘Good to know we agree you _need_ some time’, Crowley look at the book’s cover, ‘ _Changing channels_ ’, he read, ‘It is a poignant story, with a lot of entertaining moments but a very dramatic ending. Something to be savored with a clear mind – what you obviously don’t have right now’.

Bobby’s mood perked up, ‘That’s the one you come in?’

Crowley was surprised by the amount of interest in his appearance, ‘No’.

‘When is it?’

Crowley ruffled his feet, ‘The next’.

‘Oh, come on!’, Bobby got up, an arm extended, ‘I can’t stop now!’

‘Yes, you can’.

‘Let me read these two and I’ll take the break. We will eat together and talk about what I’ve read until then’.

‘Nope’, Crowley gave some steps by the side of the desk to put more distance between them, keeping the book against his chest, ‘And if your well-being is not enough of an argument, here goes another: I want some attention’.

Bobby leaned his head, pondering.

‘Well…’, he followed Crowley’s steps, ‘Now you have a point’.

‘I always have a-Oh’.

Crowley stopped speaking because suddenly Bobby was into his personal space, his front pressed against the former demon’s shoulder and hip.

‘I am not giving you this, Robert’.

‘Giving me what?’

‘The book’, Crowley shivered at the low voice close to his ear, ‘And how can you be so tempting in bloody Heaven?’

‘Don’t know what you’re talking about’, Bobby’s arm extended to rest on Crowley’s lower back, a hand gently landing in his hip, ‘I missed you, too’.

Crowley gulped down, ‘Low blow’.

‘Why?’, Bobby planted a kiss on the other’s temple and passed his other arm across his middle, enveloping him in a loose hug, ‘You said you want attention, and I want to give it to you’.

‘I came here intending to offer a meal and a healthy break’, Crowley closed his eyes and permitted himself to lean, just a bit, on Bobby, ‘And you come on me with… _this_ ’, he sighed, opening his eyes again, ‘Whatever _this_ is’.

‘ _This_ is us sharing a nice moment together. I want to keep reading, you want a break. We’re having something in between – having a break without leaving the place where I’m reading’.

‘So, you are imposing _your_ idea of a compromise’.

Bobby tightened the hug a bit, ‘Shut up and enjoy the feeling, idjit’.

‘All right’.

They stayed like that, in silence, comfortable with the other’s presence and support.

Suddenly, Crowley chuckled, ‘Far from me ruining the mood, pet’, he caressed the forearm on his front, ‘But you’ve been getting creative with these long arms of yours’.

A new kiss was planted on his temple, ‘Glad you noticed’.

Crowley hummed in agreement, ‘Don’t you find it amusing that Heaven gives us heartbeats?’

‘I suppose they use things we recognize to help us feel at home’.

To Bobby’s surprise, Crowley dislodged himself from his arms, turned to face him and stepped into a proper embrace.

‘Uhm’, Bobby caressed the back now under his hands, ‘Did I say something right?’

‘You made me realize why I didn’t recognize this feeling’, Crowley answered, ‘So, it’s called _home_ , then?’

‘Yeah’, there was a smile in Bobby’s voice, ‘You’ve got it’.

‘It’s soothing’.

‘You can have it anytime’.

‘I will keep that in mind, love’.

Crowley relaxed, savoring Bobby’s gentle touches on his back and hair.

And managing not to clutch at him like a drowning man.

At some point Crowley breathed deeply, patted Bobby’s back and slowly parted from him, ‘You may get back to your reading, now’.

Bobby found the formality funny, ‘You sure, your Highness?’

‘Absolutely’, Crowley looked into Bobby’s eyes to convey his sincerity, ‘I got my Robert fix. I can last for a while. Devour your low quality literature with no qualms on my well-being’.

Bobby rolled his eyes at the drama.

Crowley gestured vaguely towards the kitchen, ‘I will find some menial task to involve myself while you indulge in the rest of Season 5’.

‘Can’t you stay here?’

The question surprised Crowley, ‘In your desk?’

‘In the living room’, Bobby corrected, then shrugged, ‘It would be new. You close while I read, for a change. I’d like that’.

Crowley smirked, ‘You want something beautiful to rest your eyes on between chapters?’

Bobby just grinned.

‘All right’, Crowley winked, ‘I’ll give you what you want’. 

xxx

Crowley took his sweet time selecting a book for himself, following closely Bobby’s process of immerging himself in the reading. 

When he was satisfied by the looks of the former hunter (completely obvious to his surroundings), he chose a Demonology manual – not just because it was fun to read what people thought they knew about supernatural creatures, but also because he still believed that if they payed enough attention they would find out cracks in Heaven’s illusion of veracity.

Book in hand, Crowley went to the sofa, took off his shoes and socks and stretched languidly before sitting, feet up.

xxx

The former King of Hell was not feeling restive, but he made sure to change positions from time to time, just for the sake of offering momentary distractions to his companion, in case he raised his eyes to look.

He was in one of his most preposterous poses, now – a leg thrown over the back of the sofa, a hand absentmindedly fussing with the cloth on his loose pants –, distracted by a quite colorful description of an exorcism when he felt a tug on the foot dangling in the air.

Crowley raised his eyes from the book and saw Bobby circling the sofa, hand still in his foot as if carrying it with him, then sitting down, ‘Come on, your Highness. I’ll let you put your feet on me, this time’.

‘Oh, my’, Crowley gladly obeyed, the book thrown away, ‘It looks like reading put you in a generous mood’.

Bobby sighed and started massaging the feet on his lap.

Crowley noticed the somehow somber mood and struggled to be in a sitting position, ‘What is it?’

‘Stop it, idjit’, Bobby frowned at him, holding the feet, ‘No need to fuss’.

Crowley relaxed again on his back, ‘All right, I surrender’.

‘Damn Heaven. I wish I had a way to record that’.

Crowley chuckled, but looked knowingly at Bobby, ‘Tell me, love. How Season 5 made you feel?’

Bobby leaned his head a bit. His eyes stayed on the feet and he seemed contemplative, ‘There are two always I can see it. One: I was in a wheelchair. I had to kill Karen again. We fought Lucifer and the Four Knights and lost. I sold my soul’.

Crowley forced himself to not show the guilt and shame that stung him at the mention of his past evil actions.

‘Or two: I spent some months in a wheelchair, having a bad experience that taught me resilience. I had some happy days with Karen again. Me and the boys fought the good fight and managed to survive the Apocalypse…’, he looked into Crowley’s eyes, ‘And I met you’.

Crowley had his mouth open in surprise.

Bobby resumed speaking, ‘And there was that part where I got the best of a powerful demon, rescued my soul and made him look at me with some respect’, the former hunter focused on the other’s feet again, ‘You remember that?’

‘I remember quite clearly’, Crowley wiggled his toes, relaxing, ‘Those were interesting times’.

‘You mean getting to be King of the Crossroads?’

‘Yes. I left Lilith’s little squadron of terrors and started a career as a Crossroads demon because I enjoyed the business aspect of it. I liked being upside, manipulating people and demons, writing detailed contracts…’, he sighed, ‘It was the most entertaining thing in being a demon, for me’.

‘But you were too smart for the average damned soul and climbed up quickly’.

‘Uhum. Maybe grabbing more than my delicate hands could hold’.

‘To add to the crap, you realized Lucifer’s rise would not make any good to Hell’.

Crowley closed his eyes at the massage, ‘I always wondered how it was possible that beings with eons of existence were so blind. It seemed obvious to me that Lucifer hated demons as much, maybe more, than he hated humans’.

‘Well, he created White and Yellow Eyes. Maybe they couldn’t see other way of existing if not following the wishes of their creator’.

Crowley scoffed, ‘Daddy’s issues all around the realms’.

‘Lilith’s existence was linked to breaking the seals and freeing Lucifer’, Bobby pondered, ‘You thought too out of the box for Hell, wishing to make a career and flipping off the old legends and defined roles and ancient rules’.

‘I suppose so’, Crowley sighed dramatically, ‘My bad’.

They chuckled at the irony and fell into silence for some time, Bobby’s hands working on Crowley’s feet.

The former demon thought of teasing Bobby about their current positions – the former mighty hunter being so domestic with the former King of Hell – but whatever pleasure he could get from that was not worth messing with such a perfect moment.

The competent hands kneaded the imaginary muscles and tendons, the small sounds of the world outside (a bird singing closer to the house, another answering from a distance, a loud car on the road far away) punctuated their bubble without breaking it. 

When Bobby spoke again, his voice was very soft, ‘May I go a bit up?’

Crowley opened his eyes, intrigued.

Before he asked what Bobby meant, the man clarified, ‘The calves’.

Crowley started laughing, hands on his belly.

‘I’ll take that as a _yes_ ’, Bobby chuckled, pulled the pants’ cloth up enough and massaged the new uncovered skin, ‘Uhm. Finally’.

Crowley calmed down, a grin plastered on his face, ‘Are they as athletic as you expected?’

‘Yeah’, Bobby pressed the muscles, ‘You never disappoint, Princess’.

Crowley watched while Bobby kept on working.

The expression on his face could be described as _blessed_.

‘Robert?’

‘Uhm?’

‘I was wondering: would you say that what you touch is yours to be touched from then on?’

Bobby halted his movements and looked at Crowley, ‘Of course not. It’s not like your body is a territory for me to conquer. You can slap my hand off anytime’.

‘I don’t feel like doing it’.

‘Lucky me that you’re letting these things happen’, Bobby smiled, ‘Cause I don’t feel like letting you go, either’.

They shared a meaningful look.

Crowley was serious, ‘It means the rules will be written along the way, based on what feels right’.

‘If you think your business mind can take it’.

‘With you for a partner, I suppose so’.

The smile in Bobby’s face turned into a grin.

Crowley forced himself to scowl, ‘I think it’s time we go to bed, pet. I’ve been already too condescending with your advances for one sole day’.

Bobby raised his brows in fake surprise, ‘You mean the bed you thought you were not allowed to lie on, anymore?’

Crowley squinted, ‘That one’.

‘Let’s go’, Bobby patted the feet on his lap affectionately, ‘We better wrap this day’.

xxx

Their process of getting into bed was quite simple and easy: a change from daily clothes to pajamas, brushing teeth to keep a human routine, each one to their side of the bed, pulling the covers and installing themselves under them.

They did all the steps that night but, when they reached the last one – facing each other to say good night –, Bobby spoke before Crowley could, ‘I want to do something’.

‘Should I brace myself?’

‘Yeah’, Bobby’s eyes twinkled, ‘Don’t move’.

Crowley made some of his frowny wary faces, not able to stop himself, even if he trusted Bobby with all his soul.

Bobby reached out slowly.

His hand rested on Crowley’s cheek.

He leaned on and pressed a kiss on Crowley’s forehead.

He parted and whispered, blue eyes soft, ‘Good night’.

He let go, pulled the covers, closed his eyes…

And fell asleep.

Crowley stayed watching him for several moments, mouth agape.

He was locked in a bubble of awe.

Bobby was making clearer and clearer what he was offering.

Crowley lifted an arm, his fingers eager to touch that face he _loved_.

No reason to deny it, anymore.

Heaven put them together with renewed souls, and he had fallen in love with Robert Singer at some point of this absurd situation.

He wished they were not making the mistake of a post-lifetime in permitting this to happen.

Crowley recoiled his arm. He didn’t know if one person could wake another, in Heaven, and he didn’t want to risk it. He was not ready to go forward.

In fact, he firmly believed the less in charge he was, the better. If Bobby – who surely belonged in Heaven and had the better soul – was to make the calls, there was a chance of this thing between them not to end in misery for both.

Crowley adjusted the covers, watched the gentle handsome face in front of him for some moments more and closed his eyes, wishing himself to sleep.

xxx

Next morning, they woke up at the same time, moved in tandem to dress, go down to the kitchen, eat breakfast, pick the books and leave for the library.

Samandriel was there, beatific grin on his face, with Seasons 6, 7 _and 8_ piled up and ready for them in the front desk.

They didn’t demand an explanation. It was obvious that someone wanted them to advance in the reading, and they hadn’t found a good reason to refuse the offer.

xxx

However, the way home consisted basically of an argument over the _pros_ and _cons_ of binge-reading the Supernatural series.

Crowley was enthusiastically presenting reasons for worry while Bobby drove, ‘Aren’t you the least wary about the sudden appearance of a _deus ex-machina_ that makes everything suddenly easy for us?’

‘A _deus ex-machina_ comes from nowhere and saves a dead end situation with godly powers. We had our suspicious about higher powers, here; so, they didn’t come from nowhere’.

Crowley agreed through some grunting.

‘And I don’t think they made it that easy. We still have to do all the reading’.

‘You are a bookworm. It’s not a problem’, Crowley crossed his arms, pouting, ‘Of course, they always could have turned it into a TV series for us to watch together, but I guess it’s too much to ask from omnipotent entities’.

‘You just want to see the kind of actor they would cast as the King, uh?’

Crowley smirked, ‘Someone who oozed charm, I bet’.

Bobby chuckled, shaking his head, ‘Sure’.

They fell into some moments of comfortable silence, enjoying the landscape around the road.

Until Bobby broke it to resume the subject, ‘What do you think could be going on?’

‘With the books?’, at Bobby’s nod, Crowley said, ‘Altered contents, mostly’.

‘We’ve been checking facts with each other. We haven’t find any inconsistences’.

‘Until now. But how can we be sure when we reach the books with facts none of us was around to see?’, Crowley squinted, ‘The ones someone seems to be in a hurry for us to reach, by the way’.

‘I used to think I was a paranoid, but you’re next level’, Bobby threw a glance at Crowley and was amused by his renewed worry, ‘Ok, you’re right, We better keep in mind there may be some manipulation in the books where we’re flying blind’.

Crowley nodded, seemingly relieved.

‘You know what? You’re staying around while I read, from now on’.

Crowley perked up, ‘Like yesterday?’

‘Yeah. I’ll talk to you the moment something important comes up’.

‘Sounds reasonable to exchange notes’.

‘See?’, Bobby rested a hand on Crowley’s thigh, ‘We’re going through this together’.

Crowley picked Bobby’s hand, turned it over to press their palms together and offered a grateful smile.

xxx

Crowley witnessed Bobby’s reactions to Season 6 from different points of the living room:

-He was perusing a shelf behind Bobby’s chair and saw when the man grinned like an idiot at the book where Dean named a baby shapeshifter after him.

-He stayed around, pretending to be reclassifying another shelf, in order to pat comfortingly Bobby’s back every time the man grumbled against Samuel Campbell and _Soulless Sam_.

-He went to the sofa, as nervous as possible for a soul, while the man read _Weekend at Bobby’s_ – the book that narrated the rewriting of their contract.

(‘Chuck described very well your typical hectic routine’, Crowley commented, fishing for Bobby’s state of mind when he closed the book.

‘He did’, Bobby pouted and passed his fingers absentmindedly on the cover, ‘It’s odd to see things written from…’, he raised his eyes to Crowley, ‘ _My_ angle’.)

-He made an innocent face when Bobby glared after reading the scene where Castiel pretends to kill him.

(‘I couldn’t help myself. I had artistic inclinations and no opportunity to show them off’.

‘Sure you did it to prove the world what an actor you are’.)

-He just smiled in sympathy every time Bobby stopped reading _The French Mistake_ to ask _What the Hell?!_

-He sat on the desk and held Bobby’s hand until he dealt with the book where he kills Rufus.

-He had to admit to Bobby that he was a bit jealous of Ellen Harvelle and their relationship in a timeline where the Titanic had not sunk.

-Bobby made faces at Castiel touching his soul and regretted showing his discomfort, because Crowley seemed to find _I have to touch it_ a hilarious line.

-Bobby stopped reading by his own volition after _The Man who would be King_ , to share with Crowley his impressions on Castiel’s point of view of the whole scenario.

xxx

The final book of the season, that ended with Castiel betraying Crowley, Crowley joining forces with Raphael, their defeat (and the start of the whole crap that was Castiel as a God), deserved a break for in-depth conversation.

‘I understand what Feathers did’, Crowley said while Bobby stirred the sauce for pasta, ‘I was a crafty demon myself and not to be trusted’, he huffed, ‘But _we had_ a deal’.

‘And deals were something you didn’t take lightly’, Bobby raised the wooden spoon for emphasis, ‘I’m not being sarcastic. You followed my contract – just worded it to screw me’.

‘Lucky me to have done enough to screw you’.

Bobby looked at Crowley, expecting his trademark flirting face, but the other man didn’t seem to realize how obvious his earning was.

‘Eyes over here’, Bobby said with a smirk at the lost expression while beholding his body, ‘Unless you have news for me’.

‘What?’, Crowley realized he had been staring, ‘Sorry, love. That was rude’.

‘No. Go ahead’, Bobby resumed stirring the sauce, ‘Tell me what you see in me’.

‘Your skilled hands and strong – even if ridiculously long – arms’, he sighed, eyes wandering, ‘And right now, the small of your back, decorated by the knot of the apron, looks like a ribbon on the luxurious curve of your arse’.

‘An actor _and_ a poet’, Bobby laughed, put a bit of the sauce in the back of his hand and offered it to Crowley, ‘Wanna taste?’

Crowley squinted.

Bobby kept the offer.

Crowley accepted the challenge, held Bobby’s hand and leaned in to lick the sauce from his skin.

He raised his eyes to Bobby’s.

Bobby was flustered, ‘Is it good?’

Crowley kept the hand in his, ‘I don’t think I really have to answer that’.

‘You do’, Bobby said, taking his hand gently but firmly away and getting back to the sauce, ‘If you tell me what you like, it makes things easier’.

That got a surprised laugh from Crowley, ‘This is Heaven, darling. There is nothing you do that can go wrong’, he adjusted his shirt just to have something to occupy his hands, ‘Besides, you have always been effortlessly good, Robert’.

‘Thanks, but it means if I make an effort, I can get anything I want?’

Bobby spoke and threw such a _come hither_ look at Crowley that the former demon stepped back as if under physical impact, ‘I hope you don’t mind if I retire for some moments’.

‘Suit yourself’, Bobby cleared his throat and adjusted his pants as subtly as he could, ‘Just be back for the food’.

Crowley didn’t move for some moments, eyes on Bobby.

Sometimes he asked himself why he still chose to run away and touch himself when it was clear as crystal how much they wanted each other.

Not ready for post-life-changing decisions, Crowley grumbled his thanks and left the kitchen.

xxx

They agreed Bobby could start Season 7 while Crowley cleaned up the kitchen. The idea was still to keep in touch, but they didn’t feel like it was necessary they stayed in the same room to do so.

The new model put them at mercy of the unpredictable flux of time in Heaven.

xxx

Crowley had just finished putting the plates on the sink and Bobby was already mumbling about the general Leviathan crap and Castiel being the new God.

At some point Crowley yelled from the kitchen, ‘The fan base called him _Godstiel_!’, and went to the double doors to peek at Bobby, ‘I hope you still think I am pretty when I stand here’.

It referenced what Bobby told him when Crowley asked if they had summoned him to conspire against the angel.

The laugh Bobby gave was the best answer Crowley could ever get.

xxx

Crowley finished equilibrating everything to dry in the sink while hearing regretful comments on Sam’s hallucinations.

xxx

Crowley picked the last pan to dry and walked into the living room to check on Bobby.

The man looked up at him and frowned.

‘What is it, darling?’

‘It’s hard to get _Demon_ Crowley’, he said, closing the book in his hands, ‘You tried to be partners with Dick Roman, even if you knew powerful entities are never to be trusted’.

‘I was trying to get a powerful ally, as usual’, he studied the pan for a moment to see if there was any wet spot. Satisfied there was not, he threw the cloth on his shoulder and turned his attention back to the conversation, ‘In my defense, I changed my mind completely the moment he made clear demons were not worth his time’, Crowley approached the desk, shrugging, ‘A matter of survival’.

‘Yeah, but next thing you’re punishing a rogue crossroad demon who was cheating humans in the contracts’, Bobby leaned his head, ‘Did you go back to respecting human rights when the leviathan boss rejected your offer?’

‘It was less about human rights and more about the seriousness of the contracts’, Crowley explained, ‘I asked Lilith to be a crossroads demon because it was about wording compromises and following them. Anything less than that broke the enchantment’.

‘I get it’, Bobby nodded and went for the next book.

Crowley gulped down, seeing the title, ‘Robert?’

‘Yeah?’

‘This book…’

Bobby looked at the title: _Death’s door_ , ‘Is this…?’

‘Yes, this is the one where you die’, Crowley breathed deeply, ‘I think it would be reasonable that I go somewhere else while you read it. The whole story is about you and it shows some very personal things’, he put a hand on Bobby’s shoulder, ‘We can talk about it later, if you wish so’.

‘Ok’, Bobby’s eyes showed his gratitude, and he asked softly, ‘Where are you going?’

‘Upstairs. I have been thinking of organizing your clothes in that thing you call a wardrobe for a while’.

‘Hey’, Bobby answered well to the mood-lightening, ‘You better keep some hangers to yourself, like I told you’.

‘Darling, we just stablished that I honor agreements’.

‘You honor _deals_ ’, Bobby said, crossing his arms cheekly, ‘I don’t remember we kissing to seal it’.

‘It’s impressive’, Crowley squinted, ‘You don’t miss one opportunity to tease me’.

‘Now you know how it feels’.

Crowley smiled and bit his lower lip, amused.

Bobby smirked, ‘Who’s teasing, now?’

Crowley rolled his eyes and started moving away, ‘I’ll put this thing in its place and then I’m going’.

‘Uhum’.

He entered the kitchen and spoke louder, ‘You won’t see my face around for a good while’.

‘Don’t threaten me’, Bobby answered, ‘If you do something to my clothes things are going to get ugly’.

‘You don’t have to worry about your old rags’, Crowley was back to the double doors, ‘Besides, I don’t think we are physically able to be ugly’.

‘We’re souls. We’re not able to be physical, dot’.

‘Says the one who wants to get physical with his roommate’.

Bobby turned to talk to Crowley’s face, ‘You shouldn’t go down that road again now. My _rags_ are waiting’.

‘You are absolutely right’, Crowley stopped at the first step of the stairs and offered a smile, ‘Will you call me if you need anything?’

‘You have my word’.

‘That’s enough’, Crowley said and added, softly, before going up, ‘Good read, love’. 

xxx

Of course, he never intended to get rid of Robert’s preferred clothes.

However, even with the new items they had acquired together, most of those clothes still looked like rags, and to Crowley, rags had always brought back memories of undignified poverty.

He never forgot how it felt to have almost nothing to wear in the freezing nights. Being accepted as a training tailor had been the safest place he could find in that small cold Highlands village, and he went for it with everything he had – not much natural talent, but a quick mind and a sincere wish to compromise.

Crowley passed his fingers on Bobby’s flannels and t-shirts. They still offended his sense of elegance the same way they did when he first saw them on the Winchesters, but they were so _Bobby Singer_ that it turned out impossible for him not to feel endearment towards the offending things.

His fingertips reached the impressive collection of jeans and he sneered.

His aversion to that specific cloth was visceral.

The moment he was free from the racks, all Crowley wanted was to leave behind the endless game of being painfully stripped from everything you had, were and believed. Lilith’s minions could roam around and choose their meat suits, and he made sure to get the softest ones he could find as soon as he joined the club.

He was eager to feel refined, to experience expensive textures on his skin, to be embraced by the most exquisite pieces of cloth.

(At the time he hadn’t noticed how black turned out to be his safe fashion haven. He just cared for the way they fit nicely and exuded finesse.)

Jeans was an offense to his sensibilities. They were practical, spoke of informal, harsh and cheap. He would never be caught in one of those.

And, still, he couldn’t hate them when Bobby was the one modelling.

Nowadays the man had more options, and often chose to wear more malleable (and shorter, and shapely) things.

He wondered if Bobby had changed his style to accommodate him, Crowley, the same way he had agreed to redecorate his kitchen and reorganize some of his bookshelves.

Crowley gave a step back to contemplate the whole wardrobe.

Right besides Bobby’s jeans and shirts were Crowley’s own shirts and coats. Bobby had insisted that he hang the most delicate of his items, and he had chosen very few, just to appease the man. He had no wish to occupy more space than strictly necessary when the subject had been brought.

Now he felt like spreading his possessions a bit more.

It didn’t mean he firmly believed this arrangement was definitive; it just meant he had realized there was no need to act as if he would be kicked out at any given moment.

Crowley went to his bag – the same one he had brought from New York, in that long trip that seemed to have occurred a century ago – and opened it, decided to gather more pieces for the shared wardrobe.

It came to this attention how much colorful his choices had been, lately. Besides that first daring black and white ensemble he had sported in the fitting room, there were the olive t-shirt (currently, his favorite), some solid gray and blue t-shirts, and that precious dark red shirt Bobby said ‘brought out his eyes’.

(It had been a joke on his demon’s past.

Bobby soon clarified that the one that brought out his eyes was the olive green.

No wonder it had turned into his favorite.)

The truth is Crowley was more than happy to taste the novelty of not worrying about his revealing vulnerability through his appearance _and_ not being chained to the ingrained panic of not feeling his nose, toes and fingers while all he could do to fight the cold was huddle in a stolen piece of cloth with a street dog.

Crowley breathed deeply.

Things had changed.

Things _were_ changing.

Not only he could have as many clothes as he wanted, but he could use whatever he wanted, at any time.

And, surely, he could organize them with whatever criteria he chose…

Crowley looked at the wardrobe and a devious grin lightened his face.

xxx

Crowley was very satisfied with the new configuration.

It demanded him to mingle his shirts and t-shirts with Bobby’s, but the nice rainbow he was able to compose was worth any grunting and questioning he may hear.

Not that Bobby had any authority to make remarks on the topic, being a man whose cataloguing methods were as close to encrypted as incantations in Enochian were to the regular citizen. 

He smiled at the thought of the gruff hunter and his delicious idiosyncrasies.

What a delight was to live with such a man: personality, intelligence and generosity in a bear package.

The fact that said man had been flirting openly with him still hit hard in his insecurities about his position in Heaven, but he decided he could live with the fun and the pleasure of the situation while his Fate was not defined.

Crowley heard hurried steps approaching, closed the wardrobe to keep the surprise and turned to the open door.

Bobby appeared and halted there.

His eyes, filled with tears, focused on Crowley.

His whole face was twisted in torment.

Crowley’s first instinct was to run to the man and get him in his arms, but he decided against any grand gestures before he found out what had Bobby in such a state.

So, he gave some small steps and spoke with his softest voice, ‘How can I help, love?’

Bobby blinked and the tears fell.

Crowley noticed the man’s hands were shaking by his sides.

He threw caution to Hell.

He advanced until he was right in front of Bobby and opened his arms in a silent offer.

Bobby promptly stepped in Crowley’s arms, pressing his face on his neck, his hands clenched in his shirt, ‘I finished Season 8’.

Crowley tensed.

Damn Heaven and its timeless existence! Bobby had read through his own death, the continuing battle against the Leviathans, his times as a ghost and as a revengeful spirit, the trials – that included the liberation of his soul from Hell – while Crowley was entertained by rearranging racks.

‘I should have known you wouldn’t stop reading even when faced with your hardest moments’, Crowley said, ‘I’m sorry I was not there for you, pet’.

Bobby’s voice sounded broken, ‘It’s not that’.

 _No?,_ ‘What exactly has you in such a state, then?’, Crowley asked gently, hands caressing Bobby’s back, ‘Tell me’.

‘ _You_ tell me’, Bobby backed enough for them to face each other, hands on Crowley’s arms, ‘You didn’t think you deserved to be loved!’

Crowley felt like he had been slapped.

He backed away from Bobby, ‘Wow. Calm down, Robert. You are missing the point, here’, he felt a strange painful feeling bubbling inside him, ‘You just relived some of the saddest moments of your life – and _post_ -life. I don’t see why we should be discussing _that_ ’.

Bobby answered without missing a beat, ‘None of what happened to me matters, anymore’.

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘I remember all of it, and reading it again through the eyes of God or whoever is not news. But _that_ …’, Bobby chocked for a moment, then resumed, ‘The first thing you did when you got a bit of soul back was trying to have a buddy in Sam… and he _rejected_ you’, Bobby shook his head, ‘Why did he do it? You were turning human. You opened yourself and he…’

Crowley was shocked.

Bobby’s pain was not about himself, or because of anything Crowley had done, but _for_ Crowley.

It was a difficult concept to grasp.

‘And the worst…’, Bobby recovered enough to speak again, ‘…is that you didn’t ask to be loved. You said you _deserved_ it’, he covered the distance between them, ‘It’s like you had been waiting for someone to recognize something in you, but it never happened’.

Crowley nodded.

Bobby approached even more, ‘I know how it feels’.

Yes, Crowley knew Bobby could sympathize with feeling rejected from a very early age. So, he nodded again.

‘I had a way out of it in my life, with Karen. I had some good friends. I had the boys’, Bobby let his arms sag, ‘What you said meant you never had a chance. That you never…’, he gulped down, ‘And all I could think of is if I’ve done enough for you to know that-’

‘Don’t say it!’

Bobby froze at Crowley’s terrified face.

‘I can’t hear it. Not now. Not _yet_ ’, Crowley clenched his jaw, ‘Please’.

Bobby nodded, ‘I’ll rephrase what I was going to say, then’, he composed himself a bit and resumed speaking before Crowley could cut him off again, ‘I hope you know it’s not like that, anymore’.

Crowley flinched and put a hand over the spot where his heart would be, if he had a real body.

Bobby was on him in an instant, ‘What’s it?!’

Crowley made a calming gesture and walked to the bed, sitting on the edge and patting the spot at his side.

Bobby, who had followed as if afraid Crowley would disappear, obeyed, a gentle hand on the other man’s back. 

‘When I first arrived in Heaven, still in New York, there were things that brought up pain. Mostly situations that made me relive the fear of being cornered and vulnerable. I experienced it so many times in my life that it got ingrained in me. When I was a demon, I fought those things because, if I didn’t, they would rip me apart to rear their ugly heads’.

Bobby’s eyes filled with concern.

‘There are things you do and say that hit there’.

Now the blue eyes were large in panic.

‘Don’t make that face. When _you_ do it… It feels like a balm’.

Bobby nodded in understanding, ‘They sooth but they mess with things that are buried so deep they scorch all the way up when they’re messed up with’.

‘And that is why I think of you as the most perfect creature in all existence’, Crowley said earnestly, ‘You have it all figured out before I have to dig inside myself to find a way to explain how it feels to be me’.

Bobby smiled and lifted a hand.

He passed his knuckles gently on Crowley’s cheek.

Their eyes locked.

‘Want to call it a day?’, Bobby asked, gesturing for the bed.

‘Sounds good to me’.

They got up, quickly changed into their pajamas and settled under the covers.

Crowley was on his back, staring at the ceiling, hands on his chest, taking deep breathes to steady himself.

‘Feel any better?’, Bobby asked, laying on his side to watch him.

Crowley offered a small smile, before staring back at the ceiling, ‘Calmer’. 

‘I don’t want to bug you, but you didn’t answer me’.

‘About what?’

‘I asked if you feel different’, Bobby hesitated, ‘If you know you don’t have to convince _me_ you deserve… that’.

Crowley closed his eyes, ‘No, I am not prepared to give you an answer. Good God, I don’t feel prepared to _think_ about it’.

‘That’s ok. Take your time’.

Crowley opened his eyes, ‘You keep saying that, Robert’.

‘It’s true’.

‘I know you mean well, but the more you read those books, the more you’ll see there is something wrong with me being here’.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I caused your death’, his eyes were firmly set on the ceiling, avoiding Bobby’s face at all costs, ‘I worked with Castiel in the plan to open Purgatory. I had a hand in releasing the Leviathans, and their boss came to be the entity that killed you. I knew your soul was adrift and could turn into a vengeful spirit and I didn’t do a thing about it. I sent a Reaper to intercept you in your way to Heaven. And all you have to say to me is that you are worried about some stupid words I said while high in purified blood!’

‘Stop it, you idjit’, Bobby scooted closer until his front was against Crowley’s side and his hand was holding one of the former demon’s, on his chest.

‘Why? This is Heaven. The truth must be said’.

‘We both know Heaven didn’t mean a thing to me while you were not here’.

‘Stop it’.

‘You wanted the truth’, Bobby answered firmly, ‘You were there. You know the shape I was in. I told you how it was before the angels threw me into prison. No joy, no chorus of winged dicks with harps singing the glory of the Lord. What difference would have made if you haven’t dragged me to Hell? More time for me to be here and feel like nothing?’

Crowley made one of his contorted _I guess you may be right_ faces.

‘Come on’, Bobby held his hand more firmly, ‘Repeat after me-’

‘I beg your pardon?!’

‘Shush. We have to get rid of that guilt’, Bobby adjusted in the bed to caress Crowley’s hair with his free hand, ‘ _I understand the intricacies of Fate…_ ’

Crowley frowned.

Bobby poked his side, urging him silently.

‘All right’, Crowley huffed, ‘I understand the intricacies of Fate…’

‘ _… and I know I’m not responsible for a whole set of circumstances…_ ’

Crowley hesitated, but spoke, ‘And I know I’m not responsible for a whole set of circumstances…’

_‘…specially if they include the worst kind of self-righteous Angel who didn’t honor his deals’._

Crowley undid his frown, ‘Specially if they include the kinds of Castiel, the unpredictable and traitorous self-righteous Angel of the Lord who didn’t honor his deal with me’.

Bobby chuckled and leaned in to plant a kiss on Crowley’s forehead, ‘Now you sounded more like yourself’.

‘I feel better’, Crowley admitted, and smiled at Bobby, ‘For the records: there was no deal, technically. I didn’t kiss Castiel’.

‘Maybe that was the problem’, Bobby smiled back, ‘People who kiss you usually want to stick around’.

‘Are you suggesting my negotiating skills were not enough and my luscious lips were to be blamed for my success?’

‘I just speak for myself’, Bobby adjusted his body against Crowley’s side again and closed his eyes, preparing to sleep, ‘But you can be _cherished_ for more than one thing, you know? Brains and lips and tongue’.

Crowley chuckled and caressed the hand in his, ‘I suppose so’.

‘Uhum’, Bobby approved, snuggling against his shoulder, ‘Good night, Crowley’.

‘Good night, love’.

Crowley turned his head to look at the ceiling again.

So, tonight they were not just sharing the same bed, but Bobby had decided that _cuddling_ was a good idea.

Maybe it was the obvious development, after so many unexpected revelations had come to light.

Crowley relished in the warmth besides him, the leg along his, the weight of the hand on the center of his chest, covering his.

The balm was taking effect, soothing and mollifying his soul.

He definitively could live with that.


	11. Inner peace

First thing Crowley saw when he woke up in the next morning was the back of Bobby Singer, standing at the foot of the bed still in pajamas, hands on his hips, staring at the open wardrobe.

Crowley sat, stretched and enjoyed some moments of contemplation of such an attractive backside before offering a greeting, ‘Good morning, darling’.

Bobby turned to him with a smile, ‘Morning’.

‘I see you found my humble art installation’.

‘I was wondering if it was a message to me’.

Crowley watched Bobby going to a nearby table and picking a tray, ‘What kind of message could it be?’

Bobby put the tray on Crowley’s lap and sat at the edge of the bed, ‘A rainbow is the gay flag, isn’t it?’

‘It’s not the _gay_ flag. It’s the _LGBTQ_ flag’, Crowley was distracted by the mug of latte and a good-looking piece of bread covered with jelly, ‘You obviously lack an education on the subject’.

Bobby didn’t miss a beat, ‘I trust you to teach me all about it’.

Crowley smiled and gestured at the contents of the tray, ‘That’s why you are bringing me breakfast in bed? To pay for teaching hours?’

‘Nah. This is just because I like being nice to you’.

‘You sweet man’, Crowley spoke earnestly, bit the bread and moaned in pleasure at the taste, ‘So good. Have you eaten, darling?’

‘Uhum. Felt like milk and cookies this morning’.

Crowley’s answering expression said _everybody has been there_.

Bobby resumed, ‘Besides, I had an idea I wanted to tell you about without interruptions’.

For that he received a light-hearted glare from the munching man.

‘The dirty curtains on the kitchen window’, Bobby commented, ‘I remember we taking them off when we put the countertops in place’.

Crowley, mouth full, showed he was following through a nod.

‘We decided taking them off, but we saw the dirty glass and discussed putting them back, right?

Crowley nodded again, fiercely.

‘And we kept them off-’

‘-with the compromise of cleaning the window as soon as possible’, Crowley completed the sentence, sipped at his latte and added, ‘Your account is correct, according to my memories’, he dabbed at his lips with a napkin, ‘What do you make of it?’

‘Not sure yet. A glitch in the matrix, maybe’, Bobby passed his fingers through his beard in thought, ‘My idea is to test the waters’.

Crowley finished his coffee in large gulps, ‘I am with you. Just tell me the plan’.

xxx

Crowley made sure the ladder was firmly in place while Bobby climbed on, ‘Are you sure there is not an easier way to do it?’

‘Like what?’

‘Destroying the whole wall comes to mind’, he lifted the bucket with some water and a rag that was to be used for cleaning the glasses of what Crowley had dubbed _the hunted window_.

‘If you had your demon powers I bet that’s how you would go for it’, Bobby picked the rag from the bucket, wringed it to get rid of the excess of water and turned to the dirty glass, ‘But we’re here for the glitch, remember? We better make a point we’re not crazy. Spending time and work on this may show whoever messed up we can see what’s going on’.

‘ _I_ surely can see a lot’, Crowley’s voice was filled with amusement. He tilted his head for a better look, ‘You are not wearing anything under those shorts, Robert?’

‘Didn’t think I needed to’.

‘Oh’.

There was a grin in Bobby’s voice when he spoke without stopping his task, ‘Are you ogling my ass, demon?’

‘From this point your arse is just one of the things I am able to ogle’.

‘Answer the question’.

The former demon sighed, ‘What’s the right answer, darling? _Yes, I am ogling you_ , and you’ll be flattered, or _no, I’d never!_ , and you’ll feel respected?’

‘The truth, Crowley’.

‘I feel like all I do is ogle you lately, and I sincerely hope you don’t mind’.

‘Good. I don’t mind. Keep it going’.

‘Well, you certainly clean up nicely’, Crowley chuckled, ‘Sorry. I couldn’t resist the pun’.

‘I do clean up nice since you first came into this house and made me realize I needed more light in my life’.

‘I was never associated with light, before’, Crowley mused, ‘It is a very nice thing to hear’.

‘Nice don’t cover what you’ve done for me’, Bobby turned for the bucket and took his time to talk face to face with his companion, ‘Not mentioning what I hope we keep doing for each other’.

Crowley recognized the unspoken promise and didn’t look away.

On the contrary: he offered Bobby one of his trademark flirting smiles, ‘As I said earlier, I am with you’, his eyes sparkled, ‘And I already know the plan, so…’

Crowley shrugged to illustrate his point.

Bobby went back to work grinning like the proverbial idiot.

And Crowley was doing the exact same.

xxx

Crowley exited the bathroom positively giddy.

He loved feeling clean and refreshed, and that was how he was after a shower that took away any traces he had been involved with dirty water, rags and buckets.

(Besides, so much time staring at the body of a hardworking Bobby created needs better tended to under the shower.)

The man provoked Crowley’s most affectionate and arousing thoughts was already wearing one of his new pair of jeans, a t-shirt and a shirt over it, sitting at the edge of the bed to tie his boots, so they could go off to the library.

‘You know what you need, here, Robert?’, Crowley asked joyfully, looking at himself in the mirror and perfecting the fit of his black t-shirt.

Bobby looked up for their eyes to meet in the mirror.

‘A tube!’

Bobby just frowned.

Crowley started adjusting details to make sure his linen pants were perfect and, while passing his fingers through his hair, resumed his happy chatter, ‘With the amount of space in your bathroom, you could have a big and nice Jacuzzi. I can’t believe you never even wondered how it would be like!’

Bobby kept frowning at him.

‘Is there a problem?’, Crowley saw the furrowed brow through the mirror and turned, ‘I thought you agreed with enjoying every comfort Heaven can offer. Your house is big enough for some fancy. Sioux Falls has gained some fancy itself; thus, making such changes for your personal satisfaction doesn’t seem so farfetched, does it?’

The silent frowning went on.

Crowley frowned back, ‘Just say it if I brought up some sensitive subject. It didn’t go through my mind that tubes could be haunting, but one never know when hunters are involved’.

Bobby pursed his lips, ‘It’s not about haunted things’.

Crowley advanced to stand in front of the other man, ‘You know I have your best interests in mind’.

‘But not yours’, Bobby answered, ‘That’s the problem’.

‘I don’t think I follow’.

Bobby breathed deeply, squared his shoulders and asked, eyes firmly set in Crowley’s, ‘You’re staying?’

Crowley was confused, ‘In the house?’

‘Yeah’.

‘I thought we were going together to the library, like we always do’, he made a gesture to his clothes, ‘I even dressed up after our little cleaning adventure’.

‘Not _that_ ’, Bobby groaned, ‘I mean _…_ ’, he made a gesture at the room around them, ‘With me’.

‘Oh’.

Crowley hesitated, looked back to the bathroom door, then at Bobby again, ‘What does it have to do with the tube?’

‘I want you to stay, and I thought you planned to. But you just spoke as if you didn’t’.

‘I just suggested a tube!’

‘For _me_ to use!’, Bobby volleyed back, ‘In _my_ bathroom. In _my_ damned house!’

Crowley’s face contorted, ‘I still don’t follow’.

‘How can you be so sharp and so stupid?’, Bobby put his hands on his knees, agitated, ‘You’re the best thing to happen to me in Heaven. I told you that already. And still you talk as if you haven’t made your mind about staying’. 

Crowley’s temper rose, ‘Well, I’m sorry if I never clarified where I stand! Maybe I didn’t have the time to sort it out myself, once until last morning I thought you were going to kick me out at any moment, so MAYBE I TRIED NOT TO THINK OF IT!’

The yelling was very _demon Crowley_ , and both were frozen for several moments, staring at each other.

Bobby broke the moment with a burst of laugh.

Crowley deflated, ‘You find it funny?’

Bobby calmed down and patted the bed beside him, ‘Come on’.

Crowley obeyed, plopping himself on the indicated spot.

‘I was not laughing at you. I just found it funny that now we can be sure Heaven is not getting inside our melons’.

‘Because I keep the habit of yelling to assert dominance?’

‘You must admit that’s proof that you are still you, no matter how much things have changed’.

Crowley leaned his head in agreement.

‘That and the mixed messages’.

‘Care to explain that further?’

‘You still throw innuendo but don’t act when something is offered to you’.

‘It’s not easy for me to believe something legitimate is being offered’.

‘I’m not saying it’s easy. I’m saying you already believe when it comes to me, and still you’re not making a move’.

Crowley put both hands on his forehead in an exaggerated show of shame.

‘I’m not demanding you throw yourself at me. But I’m pointing out in that you didn’t change from the demon I knew – the one who offered a temporary deal for my soul and then refused to give it back-’

‘I got attached’, Crowley mumbled.

‘-and mocked me even while giving me my legs back for no reason’.

Crowley threw him a dirty side stare, ‘I gave your legs back to show your gang of morons that I could and would, if I wanted to’, Crowley scoffed, ‘And because those same morons you helped to raise into heroes needed you’.

Bobby shrugged, ‘Mixed messages’.

Crowley squinted.

‘You admitted you were an ass to me and the boys but thought the world could only be saved if I was in the party with them’, Bobby grinned, ‘Then you bounced between keeping yourself apart and wanting to be with us; now you bounce between trusting what’s going on between us and keeping the door open in case things change’.

Crowley lowered his hands and nodded.

Bobby nudged Crowley’s shoulder with his and winked, ‘You want to be with me, don’t you?’

‘Good God’, Crowley huffed, ‘What got into you, today?’

Bobby laughed at Crowley’s discomfort, ‘You can’t blame a guy for trying’.

‘Robert, would you please help me make some sense of this conversation?’, Crowley made puppy eyes, ‘I have no idea what we are supposed to achieve with it’.

‘All right’, Bobby turned to Crowley.

The entity who had been King of Hell had his eyes wide and body tense in expectation.

Bobby was very serious, but his whole attitude was gentle, ‘I want you to stay here. I want you to live with me. Yeah, I know we’re already living together, but it’s still not like we both have the same… _rights_ over the house’.

‘Property doesn’t mean anything in Heaven’.

‘Not rights like money and possessions. I mean as a symbol’.

Crowley’s eyes were firmly placed on Bobby’s, urging him to go on.

‘I’m not having this _You could have a tube, Robert_ bullshit, anymore. _We_ could have it. If _we_ decide to have it, it’s going to be _our_ tube. In _our_ bathroom’, Bobby gestured to the room they were, ‘And this is _our_ bedroom. In _our_ house’, he smiled softly, ‘Because it’s not _my_ Heaven, anymore. It’s _ours_ ’.

Crowley blinked a couple of times, the words registering.

‘Again, I’m not demanding anything. But it feels right that we start treating this life and all in it as something we share’.

Crowley nodded but casted his eyes down.

Bobby rested a hand on the others’ forearm, ‘Tell me what’s going on. Maybe I can help’.

Crowley gulped down, ‘No one ever said they wanted to share a cot with me, much less a life’.

‘It means I’m your first?’, Bobby smiled teasingly, ‘I have to teach you everything?’

That helped to lighten the mood, and Crowley chuckled, eyes back up, ‘I suppose so’.

Their stared at each other for a while, a silent conversation about their affection going on.

‘I want to stay’, Crowley spoke with a calm he hadn’t showed before, ‘I feel ready to accept this spot of Heaven as ours and, with a wee bit of practice, live as if I really belong here’.

‘With me’.

‘Yes. If I belong here with you’.

Bobby opened a grin, ‘That’s good’.

‘Robert?’

‘Yeah?’

Crowley squared his shoulders before speaking, ‘When I say I want to believe I belong here, what I mean is that I recognize all the wonderful things you have been bringing out in me and the changes it provokes’.

Bobby nodded in understanding.

‘Sometimes it is terrifying. Nice things keep coming up and I have to educate myself to accept them’.

‘It’s a leap of faith. We don’t have any proof the whole thing is not going to explode in our faces’.

‘The point is: I can take the leap because I have you with me’, he took Bobby’s hand, ‘You just pointed out I still speak as if I couldn’t see myself as a part of this. I hadn’t noticed how much it stood in the way of me believing that my most daring dreams of an existence filled with love have come true’.

Bobby’s mouth opened in surprise.

‘Oh’, Crowley made a face, ‘I said the infamous _l_ word’.

Bobby didn’t speak, and Crowley realized the man had a knot in his throat.

Crowley lifted a leg to put it on the bed and sit facing Bobby, so he could huff theatrically and pull the man to his arms.

The hug was similar to the one they shared when Bobby came to him to grieve for the lack of love in Crowley’s previous existence. It was a full circle: from the moment Bobby found out he wanted to hear he deserved to be loved to this moment, when Crowley declared his intention of grabbing it with both hands.

Speaking of hands, ‘As nicely as we fit together, Robert’, Crowley said when Bobby didn’t give any sign of ending the hug, ‘Shouldn’t we be on the road already? There are books waiting for us’.

‘Nah. We can stay here a bit more’.

‘You have a reasonable argument?’

‘Test Heaven’s matrix’, Bobby snuggled even closer, ‘See if they’re gonna change something in the house’.

‘We are going to see it while hugging in _our_ bedroom?’

There was a grin in Bobby’s voice, ‘Uhum’.

xxx

The angel in the library front desk had a gleam in his eyes while he handed them Seasons 9, 10 and 11.

Bobby, wary at the obvious joy, spoke to the angel while gesturing to Crowley, ‘You know these are the last books _he_ read, don’t you?’

His direct approach was rewarded, ‘Yes, I know!’, Samandriel grinned and leaned towards them as if telling the best gossip ever, ‘From Season 12 on, we’ll provide two copies of each book, so you both can read them at the same time’.

‘How nice of you’, Crowley said between grinded teeth.

‘Thank you!’, Samandriel blushed in pleasure, not realizing the sarcasm.

xxx

They piled the books on the back seat and entered the truck, Bobby put the keys in the ignition but didn’t turn them.

His eyes were glued to something ahead of the car.

Crowley followed his line of vision but couldn’t see anything that deserved such attention, ‘What are you seeing that is so mesmerizing, Robert?’

‘I’ve been thinking…’, Bobby looked at Crowley, ‘I feel like working with cars, again’.

‘You mean reopening the yard for business?’

‘Kind of. Don’t want people coming around all the time, even if in Heaven it’s never gonna be an issue’, he shrugged, ‘But restoration could be fun. Maybe muscle cars and classics’.

‘Oh! It sounds great!’

‘I didn’t know you’re into old cars’.

‘I am into any fancy thing, and certain cars have that quality’.

‘You don’t mind me planning something not knowing if you would be interested?’

‘You are confused, darling. I am not the Winchesters to live in codependency with the ones they love’, Bobby let out a laugh at that, and Crowley resumed, ‘I could study and make research with you on the subject, if you accept my offer of help. However, even if we find out I am not that engaged, I will be truly happy to see you doing something you enjoy’.

Bobby smiled, ‘That’s nice’.

Crowley smirked, ‘Obviously, no matter how I feel about it, you’ll be by yourself when the hard work comes. I’ll just stay around to watch your sweaty and greasy body’.

‘I can live with that’, Bobby nodded, then gestured for what he had been staring before, ‘There’s a place around the block. I saw a Mustang, earlier. Thought of talking to them’.

‘Of course’, Crowley promptly agreed, ‘You want me to go with you, stay in the car or what?’

‘’I’ll park closer and you decide what you want to do’.

xxx

Bobby ended up entering the huge mechanic shop by himself, because Crowley noticed a showcase across the street and just had to see more of the objects of decoration and trinkets he could see from outside.

xxx

When Crowley exited the shop (carrying a bag with a gift for Bobby), he saw his companion besides the truck, in an enthusiastic conversation with Rufus Turner.

Crowley stopped on the sidewalk to watch them.

Their interaction was easy and fluid. They looked exactly like the good old friends that you expected people to be in Heaven.

Crowley realized it was the first time since he arrived that Bobby was meeting someone from his previous life. He wondered how he fit in a situation like that.

Well, staying across the street munching on it would not provide answers.

Thus, he straightened his back, squared his shoulders and walked to the pair.

Rufus was the first to see him, ‘Here’s the man!’

Bobby turned and smiled, extending an arm to welcome him to his side, ‘Hey’, he saw the bag, ‘What you’ve got there?’

‘It’s a gift to celebrate your new enterprise’, he spoke to Bobby, handing the bag, then extended a hand to Rufus, ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mister Turner’.

‘Pleasure is mine, man’, he shook Crowley’s hand with a strong grasp, ‘Bobby was just telling me it’s you who’s taking him off his cave. Not that he had to say something was different – it just takes looking at him’.

‘You can’t shut your trap, can you?’, Bobby growled, opening the bag, ‘You keep saying that and it’s going to his head’.

‘Let it go’, Rufus answered, ‘We’re in Heaven. There’s no limits to what we can be proud of. And I tell you’, he pointed at Crowley, ‘You’ve made a feat, there, King of Hell!’

Crowley grinned. It was nice to hear someone praising not just his present status, but his demonic previous one. Before he could comment, Bobby was speaking, fascinated by the contents of the bag, ‘You found it in the shop?’

‘Yes. I supposed you would enjoy the reference…’, he pointed at the miniature black Impala 67’ Bobby had in his hand, ‘…and the inspiration’, he reached for the miniature black Bentley 34’.

‘They’re beautiful’, Bobby pulled Crowley for a side hug, ‘Now we’ve got to find a place for them in the house’.

‘There or in the shed when you reopen it’.

‘That’s an idea’, Bobby let go of him and put the cars back into the bag carefully, ‘I was thinking some shelf in the living room, but decoration on the shed would be nice, too’.

‘Considering how attached you are to your mysterious filing system, I doubt we could find a spot for them among your books, anyway’.

‘You’re not messing with my research material’, Bobby cradled the bag in his arms carefully, ‘It’s worked well until now’.

‘Far from me intruding in such essential material’, Crowley answered in a voice too fond to be really sarcastic, ‘Who knows when we are going to need information on werewolves?’

‘You joke but no one knows, idjit’.

‘Must I remind you-’

Rufus’s voice thundered, interrupting the tirade, ‘Damn!’

Crowley and Bobby stopped bickering and turned to him, surprised.

‘Look at you lovebirds!’, Rufus opened his arms to gesture at them, grinning, ‘Classic old married couple!’

xxx

The first blocks in the way home were filled with jokes on how they should receive Rufus when he came to visit in the near future.

(Bobby thought the man _couldn’t shut up_ and Crowley believed he _had_ _an attitude_. Surely he deserved some rough treatment.)

Saying those things was part of an unspoken agreement of keeping a playful grumpy façade when they got emotional, because if they didn’t, they would just melt in joy for being truly acknowledged as a couple for the first time.

Then they spoke of the plans for the yard. Bobby told Crowley about his conversation with the mechanic and the real possibility that some relic would be left under his care soon.

And, of course, Bobby kept glancing at Crowley’s gifts – currently in exhibition on the panel of the truck – and grinning in childish joy.

Crowley tried to break the over-sweetness getting back to the previous safe subject, ‘Mister Turner is a lot nicer than I guessed by the way he is portrayed in the books’.

‘He changed’, Bobby said, eyes firmly on the road for the moment, ‘Heaven gave him a family and took away the fear of losing it to some monster’.

‘That’s interesting information on the nature of this place’.

‘Yeah. No more a place to relive good memories without a sense of time’, Bobby answered, ‘Now we make new good memories without a sense of time’.

‘That’, Crowley agreed, ‘And it reinforces the idea that this new Heaven has been designed to let us be the people we were supposed to be in ideal circumstances’.

‘So, in ideal circumstances you would be my roommate, and not some powerful evil entity wreaking havoc somewhere?’

‘The time we have spent together convinced that lust for power doesn’t compare to lust for you’.

‘You’re a romantic’.

‘Only for you, my love’.

xxx

‘Robert, I don’t want to be around while you read the next seasons’, they had piled the books on the desk and were standing beside it when Crowley decided to bring the serious subject up, ‘At least for Season 9, I’d like your permission to make myself scarce’.

‘That’s because of the blood addiction?’, Bobby frowned, ‘You’re ashamed?’

‘There were so many humiliating situations in those months…’, Crowley scrunched his face, ‘The things I did because of the addiction, the people from my past who were back…’, he closed his eyes for a moment in distress, ‘I tried to stay at the top and pretend I had the structure to deal with everything at once, ruling Hell while being attacked by currents of emotion …’, he opened his eyes, ‘I didn’t exactly succeed’. 

‘I get it’, Bobby clapped his shoulder, ‘You don’t have to stay around. And I promise you we’ll just talk about it if you want to’.

‘It’s not fair. We have been discussing your life until now’.

‘Because I wanted to share that with you. But I know there are things better left behind. We don’t have to analyze and nitpick everything. We’ll see if it’s worth bringing it up, and if it’s not we’ll move on, ok?’

Crowley took Bobby’s hand to lift it to his lips and kissed his knuckles, ‘Thank you, love’.

xxx

Crowley agonized over the decision of not staying around for the rest of the day.

He did a lot of things to distract himself, and it didn’t quite work.

Laundry, for starters: their sweat didn’t reek, but it was entertaining to throw everything in the washing machine, choose some scent to go with the clothes and sit in front of it to watch things tumbling over.

xxx

Feeling like a caged animal in the house (it was like he could feel a force field around the living room), Crowley went for a stroll in the yard.

He circled the house, a critic eye on the chaotic spread of vegetables in general, and thinking that maybe they should turn their attentions to gardening. There was plenty of space to plan and build some pretty nice green spots around the house.

Growing their own spices and herbs would be nice, too. Obviously, everything was fresh in Heaven market, but there was a nice ring to harvest your seasoning.

xxx

Crowley walked to the front gates of the yard, perpetually open like an abandoned place when it was on Earth, so contradictory with the perpetually closed doors and windows of the house. He mused how it was possible that Police never suspected hunters in general, with the inconsistent stories and bizarre living places.

_Well, no wonder demons, monsters, deranged angels and general psychos ran free._

Crowley smiled. He would have a lot to tease Sheriff Mills about when she arrived in Heaven.

He was a bit surprised at his own thoughts and reactions. It seemed he finally was thinking of Sioux Falls as _his_ place, and the people that was part of Bobby’s and the Winchesters’ story were _his_ people, too.

He stayed under the warmth of the sun for a while, basking in the peaceful moment.

xxx

His stroll took him for an inspection of the shed.

Crowley took mental notes on what it needed to be turned into an amenable workspace. One more time, he tried to understand what could be so attractive about metal parts.

(He remembered his own thoughts and fantasies about a specific mechanic and decided that, even if he couldn’t understand it, the appeal was there, clear and strong.)

Crowley had just sat on a bench that looked like it hadn’t seen a human butt for centuries when Bobby appeared at the back door of the house.


	12. The Final Frontier

Crowley watched Bobby’s face while he walked towards him.

Even if he was still convinced that reading the _Supernatural_ series was their best shot at understanding Heaven’s new configuration, watching Robert go through such emotional exhaustion didn’t set well with him.

Bobby entered the shed and leaned against the worktable in front of Crowley, crossing his arms and staring at him in silence.

Crowley offered a smile and raised his brows, showing he was ready to listen.

Bobby looked down for a moment before collecting himself, ‘I guessed the worst thing to read about you would be the addiction’.

Crowley’s smile fell.

He made a quick mental recollection of his misdemeanors in Season 9 and an uncomfortably long list came to mind: Kevin and Linda Tran, the strategic battle against Abaddon that included introducing Dean to Cain, lead to Dean using the First Blade and turning into a demon after his death by Metatron’s hand.

So, now Bobby knew that Crowley had a big role in turning his favorite son into a monster.

The former hunter breathed deeply, ‘It was ugly seeing you trying to deal with it by yourself, but…’

Crowley made a contorted face and recoiled in his seat, not sure what the way he battled addiction had anything to do with that.

‘…Damn if I was prepared for your mother!’

‘Uhm?’

‘The way she manipulated you when she found out you had emotions’, Bobby shook his head in anger, ‘Pretending to be your ally. Killing the butler you trusted. Asking Sam to kill you’, he snarled, ‘It could have been a turning point for you! The King of Hell was for the first time in History someone who had something of a soul, and she…’

Bobby just shook his head again.

Crowley felt himself melt, ‘I was not prepared for her, either, as you must have noticed’, he offered a soothing smile, ‘I thank you for the sympathy’.

‘It may be _empathy_ ’, Bobby nodded, ‘A mother’s rejection hits a bit too close to home for me’.

Crowley nodded.

‘But it was not the same’, Bobby fussed with his cap, ‘My mother told me to my face I was wrong and damned. At least she never hid how she felt or why she did it. But the stories that came up with yours… Damn!’

Crowley noticed the still clenched fists and tried to lighten the mood, ‘Does it mean you agree I was worth _at least_ five pigs?’

‘Don’t joke about it’.

Crowley was taken aback.

Bobby had _pleaded_.

‘It’s all gone, now, love’.

‘These things are never gone. They stay here’, Bobby pointed at his own head, ‘She didn’t think of you as a human being. She didn’t care that what she did would mark you forever’, Bobby’s hands trembled, ‘You were just a kid!’

‘In an isolated and barren corner of the old continent, three hundred years ago’.

‘I’m not cutting her slack because of that – she found you again in the 21st century and did exactly the same!’

‘You have a point, love’, Crowley nodded, got up and spoke calmly, decided to soften the other’s temper, ‘And yes, the way she treated me when I was a child turned out to be a setback in my human life, and she put salt in the wound again when I was a demon King with emotions and feelings’, he looked into Bobby’s eyes, ‘When I say it’s gone, what I mean is that I have recognized this… _issue_ of mine soon after I first arrived in Heaven. I realized it prevented me from enjoying what Paradise had to offer there in New York, and it still plays a large part in my difficulties to accept that I… deserve… anything good’.

Bobby scrunched his face as if he was going to cry, ‘I had no idea’.

‘Why should you?’, Crowley rested a hand on Bobby’s forearm, ‘It was not clear crystal even for myself before I got here’.

‘You told me your mother had left, and I didn’t stop to think what it meant to be a boy in those times, with no one else to turn to. I should have known better’.

‘I’m moved that you care enough to feel my pain as if it was yours’, Crowley smiled warmly, ‘But my time here with you has been helping me overcome my feelings of abandonment. You were instinctively helping even before you knew the nature and the extent of them’.

Bobby closed his eyes and pulled Crowley until their foreheads were touching.

They stayed in silence, Crowley attentive to the signs Bobby was giving him, and satisfied that the man seemed calmer when they parted.

Bobby resumed the conversation, ‘The Mark of Cain stuff didn’t make sense, at first. You and Dean partying’.

‘ _Dean_ was partying. I was merely introducing him to people and places. Playing chaperone, if you will’.

‘That’s what didn’t make sense. You’ve always been the business type, and suddenly everything went on hold because of _Deanmon_ Winchester’, Bobby munched a bit, before going on, ‘But then I realized you just wanted someone – him, in fact’.

‘You could say I was greedy’, Crowley clenched his jaw, ‘I could never take Moose’s place’.

‘It was not greed’, Bobby’s hands caressed the other’s arms, ‘It was despair. Loneliness does it to a person’.

Crowley shrugged, ‘ _What’s in a name_?’

‘It makes all the difference in the world’, Bobby’s eyes softened, ‘Now it makes sense you said you _deserved_ to be loved. You’ve been looking for someone who believed you were worth it, and you invested in Dean for that’.

Crowley looked away and breathed very, very deeply.

That was still not an easy subject.

‘I’m not insisting’, Bobby spoke and let go, ‘We talked about leaving things behind’.

Crowley looked back at him, ‘And you think this is the case?’

‘Yeah’, Bobby’s eyes had a teasing spark, ‘If we start discussing the things you did those months, we’ll have to talk about what you and Dean did in your _Summer of Love_ , and I don’t want to know, do I?’

‘Oh, no, you don’t… Wait’, Crowley frowned, ‘ _Summer of love_ was an expression Sam used way later… My mother is not in Season 9… And Demon Dean joined me in Season 10-’.

‘Yeah, I… kind of read the whole three seasons’.

Crowley opened his arms in affront, spluttered, looked around as if he was going to plead his case to someone, realized there was no one to appeal to and settled for crossing his arms and glare at Bobby, ‘We talked about breaks! Why do you submit yourself to such torture?!’

The former hunter hurried to explain himself, ‘Maybe I shouldn’t have gone all the way, but I couldn’t stop. The boy’s lives were a rollercoaster’, he spoke as if he was talking about a fascinating movie plot, ‘They finally meet a decent long lost grandfather who gives them a real home and the guy dies at the hands of a crazy super demon bitch!’

‘Yes – Henry Winchester, the Men of Letters’ bunk, Abaddon’, Crowley rolled his eyes, accepted the reasoning, uncrossed his arms and sat back on the bench, ‘It doesn’t justify you finding out so many disgraces in one sitting, but I guess there is no way I can stop you from being the obsessed bookworm you are’.

Bobby just shrugged.

‘That bunker of them is the stuff of your dreams, isn’t it?’, Crowley spoke already foreseeing Bobby’s demeanor brighten at the subject, ‘I always wondered what would happen if you had access to that place. You made miracles with your personal collection, but there you would have all kinds of sources, materials, artifacts and documented phenomena. You would be unstoppable’.

‘Your luck it didn’t happen, King of Hell’, they shared a chuckle, and Bobby frowned, ‘I wonder if it exists here’.

‘I thought spells and magic were off the table, in Heaven’.

‘It would be worth checking’.

They exchanged a look that sealed the deal, devilish smiles and all.

(Yes, one day they would drive to Lebanon just for the kicks.)

Feeling like the hardest topics were dealt with, Crowley brought up a good reference for that time period in the _Supernatural_ series, ‘I guess it was nice reading about you and Rufus mirroring Sam and Dean in that haunted house, both pairs being successful in the end’.

Bobby smiled fondly, ‘Yeah’, then he grimaced, ‘Chuck knows how to tell a story’.

‘That he does’, Crowley crossed one leg over the other, ‘And what about the resolution of the _Amara problem_?’

‘You mean every entity joining forces against her or the fact it didn’t work?’

‘Be nice, Robert. Of course, you were not there to solve everything in a whim and call us all _idjits_ , but at least we managed a truce’.

‘Yeah, you did’, Bobby spoke through his teeth in mocking, ‘It was beautiful’.

Crowley laughed and Bobby scoffed.

‘So’, Bobby straightened his back and stretched, finally relaxing completely, ‘You took a good look around here and now I’ll have an earful of suggestions about my workplace, _Uncle_ Crowley?’

xxx

Crowley opened his eyes in the dark bedroom.

He frowned – the disorientation from Heaven’s wakening process was already familiar, but something felt wrong.

The memories of the day came back.

Breakfast in bed.

Cleaning the kitchen’s window.

A conversation about a tube that ended up as a conversation about sharing a life.

Going to town, getting Seasons 9, 10 and 11 from the library and meeting Rufus.

Exploring the yard while Bobby read, then discussing what Bobby read while fussing around the shed and planning modifications on it with Bobby.

Debating on updating the entryway of the yard.

Going back to the house for a snack.

Sitting on the porch together to chat and watch nightfall with glasses of scotch in their hands.

And finally, the ritual for bed.

Said ritual – that had consisted since the first day of brushing teeth and changing to pajamas, and has been including snuggling, now – gave Crowley a bunch of useful sensorial information to anchor him to reality the moment he woke up with the odd feeling: Bobby’s arm was thrown across Crowley’s chest, his breath warm and even against his shoulder.

Well, if Bobby was still sleeping peacefully, whatever disturbed Crowley’s slumber had not affected his companion.

Pacified that there was no problem with his bed partner, Crowley focused in the whole room.

And that was when he heard the pattering against the roof.

It was raining.

Crowley didn’t remember rain in Heaven.

Intrigued and decided to investigate, he maneuvered to get off the bed without disturbing Bobby: he lifted the arm on him gently, slid towards the edge of the bed, put the arm on the warm spot where his torso had been and pulled the covers on the man.

Crowley found his slippers easily in the dark. They were black and fluffy with two demon horns.

(Bobby had a fascinating sense of humor…)

After slipping his feet in, he tiptoed to the door and exited the room in silence.

xxx

Crowley took a look around the second floor of the house and didn’t find anything abnormal – no open doors that shouldn’t have been, no lightening outside, no open windows with lashing curtains like in horror films, no creaking strange sounds.

He descended the stairs and turned left to the living room, watching the darkened corners, checking if things were in their usual spots (desk, _Supernatural_ books, sofa, TV – all where they were expected to be).

Nothing obviously out of place and no intruders lurking in the shadows.

Crowley advanced to the kitchen and had to squint, stopping on his tracks at the double doors.

An intense brightness was coming from the recently washed window in the kitchen.

He approached in firm strides, his mouth open in awe.

Perfectly visible through the clean glass, a huge full moon occupied the night sky, illuminating the rain that crossed the space, splattered on the chunks of metal and formed puddles in the ground.

It was a show of shining silver against solid ground, metal and the dark background of the night.

Crowley stopped in front of the window and watched, mesmerized, devouring the beauty of it with large eyes. 

Familiar steps reached the end of the stairs, and he smiled in anticipation.

Bobby stood by his side, stretched his neck to look through the window over Crowley’s shoulder and commented, ‘That’s nice’.

‘Isn’t it?’

‘Don’t think I had ever seen rain in Heaven’.

‘Me, neither’.

‘You think there’s a reason?’

‘Maybe it’s a celebration. A holiday for Clean Windows’.

They shared a chuckle over that.

Bobby spoke softly, ‘I used to like hearing the sound of rain on the roof’.

‘Me, too’, Crowley nodded in agreement, ‘It helped me sleep even when I was not sure I’d still have a roof over me in the morning’.

‘You were a poor child in old times, in a cold place’, Bobby rested his chin on Crowley’s shoulder, the both of them watching the play of color in the rain outside, ‘I’m sorry it was so bad’.

‘I had plenty of opportunity to overcompensate, as a man and as a demon’.

‘You mean fancy things?’

‘And my deal’.

‘You really sold your soul for bigger junk?’

‘It was the easier way to get some favors’, Crowley spoke with a calm that was surprising to both of them, ‘The kind of favors that give you a roof for the whole night’.

Bobby circled Crowley’s waist with his arms, embracing him from behind, ‘Damn’.

‘We have talked about it. Everything is part of the path that brought me here’, he rested his hands on the ones at his front, ‘It was not an easy path, but the final stop has been truly rewarding’.

‘That’s something’.

They kept standing there, watching the rain falling under the moonlight.

The air filled with soothing sounds.

The silence between them filled with understanding.

Their eyes met in the glass.

Crowley spoke again, ‘I guess the fact I was so unhappy in my life in Scotland was the reason why Heaven got confused about me and James’.

‘And you see yourself like this because this is how you managed the things you wanted’.

‘Yes’.

‘But you possessed other people besides James, didn’t you?’

‘After James, just a few. Before… Well, you couldn’t be one of the most popular of Lilith’s minions if you had qualms about possessing any member of a family and its staff for her amusement’, his voice trembled lightly, ‘The elderly, the children… No one was safe’.

Bobby didn’t answer, but the embrace got a bit tighter in support.

Crowley resumed, ‘I always found the whole traumatizing and killing for entertainment a pointless thing’.

‘That’s why you asked to get into Crossroads?’

‘Yes. I started coaxing Lilith into giving me a position based on how persuasive and charming I could be, and how important it would be to Hell having someone like me out there making deals that secured more demons’, he blinked slowly, as if tired, ‘Soon after I started working on deals I saw James and it was like I had found exactly what I had been looking for’.

‘In the books I saw that you never left the meatsuit behind if you could avoid it. And you always recovered it. Even when it would have been easier just jump into another one’.

‘I had never been truly happy in my existence, but this…’, Crowley pointed at himself on surface of the glass, ‘This is the face I saw as mine every time I felt like I had finally accomplished something’, he lowered the hand and closed his eyes, ‘Of course, my accomplishments involved destroying other people’s happiness – James included’.

‘One day we’re going to find out what happened to that chap’, Bobby promised, then shook Crowley slightly by the shoulders, ‘But right now your accomplishment is making _me_ happy. Does it count for something?’

Bobby spoke and pressed a kiss on Crowley’s temple, extracting a smile from him, ‘It surely does’.

‘And _your_ happiness is watching the rain falling outside through a clean window’, Bobby grinned, ‘I’d say you’ve changed for the better’.

Crowley opened his eyes, the smile reaching them, ‘To be honest, I never thought I would have the opportunity to find happiness, much less in pure and tender things. Maybe that is why I appreciate this so much’.

‘You managed to have soul enough for Heaven to get you in’, Bobby sighed, ‘I’m glad’.

‘Me too, love’, Crowley sighed and covered Bobby’s hand on his shoulder, ‘Thank you for listening without judgement’.

‘It makes no sense to judge what’s done, but you’re welcome’.

They went back to watching the rain fall for more uncountable blessed moments.

And, suddenly, both yawned.

‘Seriously?’, Crowley spoke to the ceiling, ‘Lesson time is over and now we go to bed like good kids?’

Bobby chuckled, ‘So it seems’.

Crowley huffed without real heat. The mysterious entity commanding Heaven made it hard to hate it.

Bobby parted from Crowley without letting go of their joined hands, and Crowley seized the opportunity to turn while giving a step back, simulating an elegant dance move and eliciting a bright grin from his partner.

‘I never asked’, Crowley spoke when they reached the staircase, Bobby leading him by the hand, ‘Did the rain woke you up?’

‘No’, Bobby answered, ‘The bed didn’t feel the same without you’.

They finished the stairs and entered the second floor’s corridor in silence.

Crowley spoke when they reached the bedroom’s door, his voice hoarse with emotion, ‘The moment we find out who is in charge I’ll register a formal complaint against you’.

‘On what grounds?’, Bobby opened the door for him, ‘That I make you too happy?’

‘That’s for me to know and for you to find out’, Crowley stopped at the threshold just time enough to peck Bobby’s cheek, ‘For now, I can bribed with some spooning’.

xxx

They went to the library next day with a new trepidation – after all, they were finally going to start reading together, and had just three seasons to go.

Samandriel was at the front desk, _Supernatural_ – seasons 12, 13 and 14 at the ready.

With no fuss, they deposited the previous books and collected their next readings, exchanging pleasantries. At that point, they had accepted Samandriel’s _good vibes_ as completely sincere, as much as his helpful attitude towards them finishing Chuck Shurley’s work.

xxx

‘Oh, I completely forgot!’, Crowley said as soon as Bobby closed the truck’s door and grabbed the keys.

‘What?’

‘There was a perfume stand in the store where we picked our clothes. I was going to mention it to you’.

‘You wanna go there?’

‘Yes…’, Crowley glanced at the books in the back seat, ‘I am looking forward finding out how Chuck Shurley described my last year of demonic life, but I have been looking forward getting a new cologne, too’.

‘Time is not a problem, in Heaven’, Bobby pondered, ‘You can even occupy the poor soul attending the stand with your pratting for hours instead of just picking a bottle, and we may still read a whole season before the sun goes down’.

‘ _Picking a bottle_? Jesus, Robert. Do you really think getting a cologne is just like that?’

‘It gets interesting?’

‘I sincerely hope so. The least I expect from this saccharine version of Heaven is infinite combinations of the most engaging essences and odors’.

Bobby was intrigued, ‘You’re some kind of perfume nerd?’

Crowley shrugged, ‘I like mixing things and seeing where they take me. It’s like cooking…’

‘…or magic’.

Crowley looked down, suddenly realizing the similarity.

Bobby kept looking at him.

‘I don’t really think it is the same as witchery’, Crowley said, raising his eyes, ‘We could definitively try it’.

‘Sure’, Bobby smirked, ‘I was just waiting to see if you were gonna try puppy eyes on me-’

‘-or reason to convince myself like a mentally healthy adult’, Crowley completed, ‘Well, now we know how much I grew up’.

xxx

_Floral, woody, citrus, green, spicy._

_Aroma, balance, blend, essential oils._

Bobby watched in awe while Crowley explained the basics of fragrances, showed him samples and talked about classic combinations.

It was fascinating to see the eyes of the former King of Hell shining in enthusiasm.

It made Bobby’s heart swell in joy.

The person tending to the stand when they arrived had soon realized Crowley knew a lot about perfumes and didn’t need any help to entertain himself and his companion; thus, they had offered a smile and left them to the multitude of bottles organized in the shelves.

It was clear that the subject was dear to Crowley, but Bobby soon realized that made him so excited was the audience: Bobby noticed every small gesture and word that softened the lesson; the attentive eyes making sure he was following but never patronizing or underestimating him.

The gentleness in Crowley’s whole demeanor was overwhelming.

When Crowley picked one of his favorite colognes and threw an almost regretful look at the stand, preparing to leave, Bobby found himself stopping him, ‘I want one, too’.

‘Really?!’

The brightness of Crowley’s grin warmed Bobby’s whole being, and he wanted to stretch that feeling forever, ‘I never paid much attention, before, but it’s a whole universe’, he offered a charming lifted brow, ‘You sure can guide me through’.

‘With pleasure, love!’, Bobby nodded and Crowley went to work, gesturing at the samples closer to them, ‘Do you have something in mind already?’

Bobby pointed out he had preferred the colognes in the woody and green specter, and from there Crowley started mentally building something with some notes of spicy here, some of floral there, until he showed two specific fragrances that he thought Bobby would approve.

‘Spot on’, the former hunter said after sniffing the bottles.

Crowley sported the proudest face at that.

‘So’, Bobby picked each bother with one hand and showed them, ‘Which one?’

‘Picking a scent is a personal choice, darling’.

‘I made my part during the process. Now you finish it’, he leaned towards the other, ‘You’ll be the one smelling it, after all’.

Crowley got flustered at the implication, but cleared his throat and shrugged, ‘Take both, then. You can surprise me’.

‘It’s an idea…’, Bobby thought for a moment, looked at one bottle, at the other, then shook his head, ‘Nah. I want to choose. It’s my first fancy cologne. I feel like finding _the one_ ’.

Crowley raised his hands in surrender, ‘As you wish’, he lowered the hands and smirked, ‘The pickier you are, the more often we may come here for new experiments’.

‘You enjoy these adventures, don’t you?’

‘I enjoy everything with you, love’.

Their eyes locked.

Crowley couldn’t help but glance at Bobby’s lips.

Bobby couldn’t help but lick them.

Crowley gulped down, ‘How can I help you?’

Bobby thought for a moment, eyes still on the other man, then spoke, ‘Turn around’.

Crowley let out a delighted sound and obeyed, ‘You have the loveliest ideas, Robert’, he heard the sound of a bottle being opened and the first sprays, ‘You can transform the simplest moments of existence into something exciting’.

Another bottle opened, more sprays were heard, and Bobby announced, ‘Done’.

Crowley turned back, rubbing his hands, eyes dancing between Bobby’s wrists, ‘Where should I start?’

Bobby pointed at the right side of his neck, ‘Here’.

Crowley froze in surprise.

So, Bobby didn’t expect him to feel the scents in his pulse points at the wrists – where himself had experimented his cologne and where he had shown some of them to the man; no, Bobby expected Crowley to feel his scent mixed with the cologne he would choose _nuzzling his bloody neck_.

It was a Hell of a mental image.

Crowley squared his shoulders and stepped inside Bobby’s personal space.

Bobby leaned his head just a bit to the left to expose the right side of his neck.

Crowley managed to get closer keeping an inch between them and breathed deeply.

‘Uhm. This one is good’, Crowley gave the tiniest step back to look teasingly into Bobby’s eyes, ‘I could stay there for a while’.

Bobby’s eyes twinkled.

He offered his other side.

Crowley approached again, breathed…

And it was like something gripped his insides and twisted them.

The sensual scent went directly to his groin.

It promised late mornings in bed, afternoons snuggled in the sofa and delicious airy caresses on his face every time he opened their shared wardrobe.

Crowley gasped and grabbed Bobby’s hips.

Bobby turned his face to see what was happening.

At the darkened eyes that met his, he smirked, ‘I take it you like this one best’.

Crowley nodded.

‘Me, too’.

Crowley wanted to say something – that that one was perfect, that he was glad they had the same taste, anything –, but all he could do was stare into Bobby’s eyes.

‘What is it?’

He reached out to caress Bobby’s cheek, his hand on the opposite side of his favorite perfume, so he could keep closer to that intoxicating scent, ‘It just transported me to the perfect life…’, he leaned his head, eyes fluttering close, ‘…one where the main essence is you’.

Crowley closed his eyes, trusting completely that Bobby was with him in what he desired to do, and was not disappointed.

Their lips met, Bobby’s arms enveloped Crowley and they kissed for the first time since the deal.

Crowley made his move and teased, lips parted just enough to be inviting without asking for anything, and Bobby answered in kind, using tongue and deepening it to show he was not playing around.

It was so similar to their kiss for the deal they both smiled into it, recognizing the pattern.

However, now there was no business going on, no hidden agendas, no souls being traded, no Apocalypse waiting at the corner.

It was just their souls earning to be together.

When they parted, their eyes met again.

Bobby couldn’t stop grinning.

Crowley looked astonished.

‘Excuse me’, Crowley forced out, hands in the air separating them, ‘I-I need to think’.

xxx

Bobby opened the truck’s door on the driver’s side some moments later, ‘May I?’

‘Sure’, Crowley, who was at shotgun, extended his arms, offering to take the colognes from Bobby’s hands. 

Bobby handed the bottles to Crowley, who picked them in silence and put them in the glove compartment, then occupied his seat and closed the door, ‘You wanna talk now?’

‘I’m sorting things out. If it can wait until we are home… I’d be grateful’.

Bobby nodded and started the truck.

xxx

They didn’t speak all the way to the yard.

Bobby divided his attention between the road and Crowley.

The eyes fixed ahead didn’t give him a clue of what was going inside the other man’s mind.

xxx

When the truck’s engine went silent, Bobby turned slowly to his companion and waited.

He didn’t have to wait for long.

‘Thank you for giving me space, Robert’, Crowley gulped down, looking at him, ‘And sorry for any unnecessary worry I may have caused’.

‘You’re welcome to deal with your things the way you fell right’.

‘That is the perfect attitude’.

Bobby smiled.

‘Robert’, Crowley started, ‘I have been running from intimacy with you because I was certain that the moment I permitted myself to truly give in to what exists between us, it would be over’.

Bobby nodded in understanding.

‘I lost everything I ever got attached to. At some point you stop believing’.

‘What you don’t love can’t hurt you’.

‘Exactly’, Crowley nodded, ‘I associated love with pain and loss for as long as I remember’.

Bobby felt something good was coming, ‘And you know it’s different now?’

‘It’s different _with you_ ’, Crowley took Bobby’s hand, ‘You are the partner life – and, obviously, Hell – didn’t give me’, he kissed the hand, ‘One that enjoys who I am, even the idiosyncrasies; one that gets all hot and bothered in my presence’, Bobby pretended to take offence and Crowley chuckled, turning the hand in his to tease the palm with his lips and tongue.

‘Damn…’, Bobby shivered, ‘What are you doing?!’

‘I am meeting you halfway’.

To prove his point, Crowley tugged Bobby to him with his free hand grabbing his shirt, and their lips met again in the space between the car seats.

The kiss in the perfume stand had been amorous and passionate; this one was wet and hungry.

Bobby was the one to look astonished, when they parted this time, ‘Let’s go to the house’.

‘Why?’, Crowley’s hand on his shirt descended in a caress until the zipper, ‘We have everything we need, here’, the hand pressed, ‘I’m ready…’, his voice went lower, ‘Finally…’, he brushed Bobby’s lips with his, ‘Please?’

Bobby’s answer was to pull Crowley for another consuming kiss and cover the hand on his lap, giving all the green lights he managed with his mind and body in overdrive.

Crowley dexterously opened the jeans and, when their lips parted, Bobby lifted from the seat to lower the pants and boxers enough for Crowley to go down on him comfortably.

‘You feel so damn good’, Bobby moaned, hand caressing Crowley’s hair, then reaching to grab a fistful of shirt, ‘Take it off’.

Crowley stopped to pull his t-shirt over his head, before going back to his task.

Soon Bobby’s hand, that had been exploring the muscled back, was advancing under the waistline of Crowley’s pants, reaching between his buttocks.

‘I am never mocking your long arms again, Robert’.

‘Come on’, Bobby pleaded, pulling Crowley by the hair, ‘I won’t last long like this’.

Crowley nodded, pecked Bobby’s lips and went back to his seat to take off the rest of his clothes.

Bobby watched him while he lowered his shorts even more and adjusted himself on the seat, waiting eagerly.

The moment he was naked, Crowley managed to straddle the other’s lap and reached around to help Bobby find his way inside him.

‘D-don’t you need-’

‘It’s Heaven, love’, Crowley found the spot, ‘Everything _must_ be all right’.

He spoke and lowered his hips, going all the way down in an easy thrust.

Both groaned in something that just could be described as _relief_.

There was a pause, just their breathing filling the air.

‘You were right’, Crowley panted, ‘This is not going to last long’.

‘It’s ok’, Bobby caressed Crowley’s sides, ‘We need it’, he nuzzled the other’s chest with his lips and beard, ‘Take what you want’, the hands settled on the buttocks, ‘Take me’.

Crowley whimpered and started moving.

He rode Bobby with urgency.

It was as delicious as they had guessed it would be.

Bobby’s fingers pressed hard in the round ass when he felt the orgasm closing in, and Crowley grabbed his shoulders and leaned for a kiss.

It intended to distract both of them and stall their peaks, but it had the contrary effect – their tongues found each other and all control was lost.

Hands grabbed fiercely and blindly, hips made small pressing circles, flesh went the deepest against flesh.

They moaned into each other’s mouths when the pleasure overwhelmed them both.

And then they stayed in the same position, ragged breathing and aftershocks of pleasure coursing through them.

Bobby’s ear was pressed on Crowley’s chest, delighting in the thundering of his partner’s heart.

When Crowley moved to part from him, Bobby looked up.

Two pairs of adoring eyes stared at each other.

Crowley smiled, ‘I love you’.

Bobby smiled back, moved, ‘I love you, too’, he raised a brow, ‘Even if you didn’t let me say it first, so you could say it now’. 

Crowley laughed, ‘I appreciated your willingness, but I swear I was not ready to hear it’.

‘I believe you, honey’.

A watery smile appeared, ‘That is all that matters to me’.

‘So, whatever the books tell and whatever we find out about Heaven, we stick together, uh? We talk our issues over and never doubt we can make this thing between us work?’

‘It’s a promise’, Crowley answered, very serious, ‘I wouldn’t have it any other way’.

Bobby pulled Crowley back into his arms, ‘Good’.

Crowley planted an affectionate kiss on the top of his lover’s head, ‘Nice to know you are a fan of after sex snuggles. I have been enjoying the cuddling’, he sighed, ‘Your arms are my home’.

‘You’re staying in them for as long as we have a word to say about it – and even if we don’t’.

‘I feel like sealing that deal the traditional way’.

‘Be my guest’.


End file.
